As the Eagle Flies
by Silent Serenade
Summary: Everything she had was destroyed, her life hanging by a thread held by an indifferent Prince. But his amusement comes with a price when Darien's formidable rage is met with Serena's cold, bitter hatred.
1. Prologue

**As the Eagle Flies**

Prologue

She could only crawl. Her hands were coated with blood and dirt, slender fingers painfully hidden. Her feet dragged in the never-ending field of ash, smeared and tainted. Her knees threatened to rip apart at her every move, unable to continue yet unwilling to forfeit. No, her movements could not be identified as a crawl. An infant could do better.

As the ground beneath her was soaked by her tears, the remnants of her clothing and feral hair was soaked with the saliva of those who circled around her, trapping her.

She could feel them moving towards her. She was just another bird in its cage, an offending hand ready to slip in her confinement and destroy at any moment. She knew that like another animal under their power, she would be fed. Only she wanted none of their disgusting belongings.

She raised her eyes and hated. Hated death, life. Hated war that could easily determine one from the other. Hated the enemy who had scorched her city, tore through the streets and leaving nothing behind, slaughtered every living thing their foolish eyes could see. Except her.

She hated them for killing her family and friends, but decided to capture her alive.

"Oh? Look at that! The bitch is angry!" A mocking voice, followed by mocking laughter. She growled softly, had never felt such a thirst for death more in her life.

"Pride goes before a fall..." she whispered to herself, silent to the roaring crowd around her. How ironic that she had fell with such humiliation.

A voice cleared and her body tensed. Amused snickers were heard, having seen her reaction. Footsteps, taunting and at ease. Boots appearing before her, halting and menacing. Beautiful leather boots coated with blood and dirt; the same as her. She wanted to kill.

"In our country, a whore doesn't utter a sound, whether in pleasure or..." The husky, commanding voice paused as a foot disappeared from her vision and was jabbed harshly onto her small back. "Pain."

She whimpered.

Her body was upright before she could stop the sound, toes desperately feeling for the ground. But even if she had wanted to yell and scream, a vice grip was clasped around her neck, tightening with every heartbeat.

He brought his smooth, clean face to hers and deliberately breathed hot air onto her face, lips curling upward at her flinch. Without a warning, she was acquainted with the dirt floor once more, her back screaming with pain from the impact, a dull throb resounding in her head.

As he strode towards her shaking body, she struggled to sit up and glared at the blonde man. She spoke, voice slurred yet frightening strong, strictly in beat with the pounding rhythm her body had attuned.

"Rape me or kill me, I won't go without a fight. Touch me again and I'll dig my claws into your flesh."

He looked at her. His turquoise eyes studied the tangled mess, and his insides flamed with fury. But no matter. She would be begging for death tonight.

Like a man who had been exposed to an incurable disease, he wiped his right palm disdainfully against his spotless armour. He spat on her; the men leered.

"I am Lord Jadeite, the First Commander of the Fifth Imperial Army of Sairelle, personal guard of His Majesty. You are more worthless than the dead of this city."

He turned towards the silent men circling them, and a cruel smile appeared on his handsome features.

"My honoured men, you shall feast tonight."

The hisses of laughter and whoops of celebrated scorn were cut abruptly as soft treading boots echoed the approaching dawn.

The woman slipped into unconsciousness as a voice stilled the chilly air and cleaned the stench of blood from the battlefield. A voice beautiful and terrifying, caressing and commanding, sensuous and sadistic. Piano and forte.

"Am I invited?"

* * *

I've always wanted to write a proper prologue. 


	2. Chapter 1

**As the Eagle Flies**

For Blood Rain, Carrot Woman, and Jewel.

* * *

Chapter 1

The first thing she noticed was the smell. A sweet aroma, which reminded her of candies she snuck as a child. A scent holding the secrets of the wild: pretty frangipanis mixed with the rich, rejuvenating tang of age-old forests. Feeling at ease, she took a deep breath, wanting to smell the delicious mixture again.

With the deliberate inhaling, blood began burning again. It coursed through her veins, reached every part of her body and woke her senses. Pain returned, the numb feeling bringing back memories she didn't want, memories she fought to keep out of her aching head.

In an act of defiance, she opened her eyes and tried to sit up, using bandaged hands to manoeuvre herself as best as her arms would allow. As the whiff of fragrance from the sheets had been foreign, her location took her completely by surprise.

She was in a spacious room, tastefully decorated despite its size. Though the absence in colour helped create a neutral atmosphere, the soft creams emphasised with the help of gently toned furniture gave a personal and comforting touch. The floor was covered with lush carpet instead of the usual cold marble. Eyes travelling upwards, a miniature candelabrum hung from the never-ending ceiling, waiting to be lit. A delicate vase standing solely on a small, rounded table held the distinguished colour of red roses, a contrast to the mild hues. All around her were the fineries and essence of the rich, which she viewed from her magnificent four-poster bed with its luxurious sheets and exotic scent.

So many emotions swirled within her that she couldn't solely define one from the others. It was like a mixture of colours in a waterlily painting, each serving its purpose but blended harshly to create the masterpiece. Her mind whirled, and she closed her eyes, desperately taking a breath to clear her thoughts.

_This must be a... A sweetly poisoned reality._

Hastily she flung her blankets away and took a moment to observe the state of her body. She found herself in clean, delicate sleepwear, her knees lightly bandaged, as was the back of her head. She stroke her long golden hair and was taken aback at the lack of her senses before realising her hands were covered in bindings. For a moment she panicked, struck by fear that she couldn't use her hands again, and was comforted by the dull responses of pain when she tried to move her bound fingers.

She swallowed and painfully realised the desperate need for a drink to soothe her parched throat, another flood of terror roaring through her.

Voices from outside the door sent a shiver down her spine as she raced against time to resume her previous position, hoping the intruders wouldn't enter this strange room.

"Must you really have brought the little nuisance here?" A sharp, fiery voice. "Let all from Chiston burn and rot."

At the mention of her native country, her home, the fragile woman felt more of herself breaking.

_Please let them continue gossiping. Please, stay away from me._

The door opened, and she burned.

"Lower your voice, Rachael. I expect proper conduct in a patient's vicinity." A calm, intelligent voice.

Soft treading. Shoes on carpet. Each step approaching her, breaching her defences.

Don't give away yet. Listen to what they have to say about you, and throw it back in their faces.

"What right do you have of commanding me, slave?" The biting voice sounded even more threatening close.

"You very well know I am of equal status to the other employed doctors. The same standing, in fact, as you whom provides sexual services." The calmness was still there, which gave the tone a more powerful quality. This country had interesting views.

Very good. Now grab at each other's throats and bite your heads off— 

"Ladies."

A warning. A masculine voice, similar to... This meant trouble.

She didn't realise they had noticed her concentrated expression which resulted from pondering of the man's vocal quality.

"Ah. The little play toy's awake."

She opened her eyes and stared at the sensuous woman, bore into her chocolate eyes.

"Rachael, is it?" she spoke, her voice husky from disuse, the silent scream for water controlled by her unrelenting pride, the promise to never ask. "We are not much different, slut."

The dark haired woman flung a curse in a different tongue.

"If you wish to swear, do so in a language we both understand."

Rachel's beautifully painted face twisted in fury before the fire burnt out and a vicious smile curled her blood red lips.

"If you don't want your pretty face to be scorched by flames, then you'd better bark like a good little dog when Lord Jadeite decides to visit."

She flowed out the room, red silk trailing the carpet like blood in the snow.

Blood.

Memories. From yesterday. Yesterday's yesterday. Tomorrow's tomorrow. What difference did it make? She may be as good as dead, but as long as there was one Sairellen in sight, she would give them hell.

"Excuse her bad behaviours," a quiet, clear voice said. The owner had short dark hair of a luminous quality, and knowing blue eyes.

She hated that look. The knowledge of a wise fool. She wanted to break her and shatter that look.

"What is your name?"

The man. A slender, almost feminine build with blonde hair so light it was almost white. He uncovered her and pushed the blankets aside, checking the bandages. As he started to unwrap her right knee, the woman took her hand and worked on the slow, almost gentle removal.

She looked away from her arm. Name? The pigs didn't deserve to know her name. It was sacred, a symbol of all that she was. Her father's pride and mother's joy, the only fragment left of her being which was still pure and unsoiled. She did not want to taint her family's memory by uttering it in this foul place, then later for it to be spat with distain by its residents. No, she would not give her name.

Having finished with her hands, the woman placed two slender fingers on her neck to check her pulse.

Such a comforting touch, wasted on a Sairellen.

"I am Zoisite."

A tenor. A doctor.

"A mineral?"

He laughed and change register into a cheerful falsetto.

How deceiving the inhabitants of this country were. For a moment she had heard that dangerous quality which scared her so much...

"That's what everyone calls us." He gently applied some lotion to a numb spot in the back of her head and made a mental note to call the servants to prepare a bath. "My real name is somewhat tedious to pronounce, and this one stuck. It also works quite well with the Four."

He finished binding her head and motioned for her to lie back down on her pillows, readjusting her blankets.

She didn't move. Damn, she was hungry and thirsty.

"Four?" she forced. _Never ask. You didn't beg then, and you won't now. Screw physical pain. Your mind is strong, and that's all that matters._

"_Four Heavenly Warriors_, we call ourselves. My fellow advisors, guards and friends." He packed the medical supplies carefully. "Kunzite, Master of the Guard among other things; Nephrite, General of the Principal Army; myself as the humble Chief Medic and Second in Command of the Fifth Army, and—"

She growled, and he almost jumped in surprise at the unhidden contempt in her eyes, and Zoisite felt the momentary relief when he spotted his assistant returning with a tray of food.

"Thanks, Amelia," he half-whispered, and turned to face his patient.

This is not good. You didn't realise when she left, and instead was drawn by this man's rambling. Look at him; he's hardly a man! Fifth Army... Think, damn you! And stop acting like a desperate child dying of hunger.

"And?" Her icy blue eyes were haunted, voice a deadly whisper.

Zoisite narrowed his eyes. In caution or to hide his fear, he did not know. Yet when he spoke, the voice reminded her so much of that terrible taunting—

"My brother, Jadeite. I believe you have met."

She wanted to taste blood. All four of these worthless mineral cowards. Her barely healed fingers tightened and clutched the sheets, but what she wanted was not soft silk sheets, but flesh under her fingers.

"Here's your food," Amelia said in a superior tone, one masters used on their disobedient dogs.

She hissed and glared at her.

"I want non of your poisoned indulgences." Her voice was that same dangerous whisper, solidifying with every syllable. "Your deceptive hospitality means nothing to me, you weak-hearted people. I'd rather drink my own urine than touch your edibles, which to me has the same pleasantry as faeces."

Her words rang in their ears, and Amelia took a step towards her, despite Zoisite's silent pleas.

"You are nothing but a whore. No, you are a prisoner whose only use is to obey the desires of any Sairellen."

She turned towards the door.

"You have just served a prisoner. Does that make you below nothing?"

Enraged, Zoisite leapt beside Amelia and roared.

"Watch your tongue, bitch!"

She smiled. A haunting, unnerving smile.

"You finally decided to rid that mask, Lord Zoisite." It was a cold, uncaring statement. "I was getting rather sick and tired with that plastered boyish — no, girlish — grin."

He moved toward her, but changed his mind and walked out the door. His shoulder covered with marinated plum wine sauce, the chicken and plate sliding to the floor, resulting in a thud and quickly staining the cream carpet. A glass of water flew by his head and cracked to pieces against the marble hallway, but not before spraying some of its contents on his expensive, tailored clothing. He ushered Amelia out and closed the door just as the rabbit stew, its bowl and spoon hit and made its way to join the meat.

She sat staring at her hands, which had more accuracy and strength than she anticipated. A warm drop landed on her sore palm, gently washing away her sorrow. Another drop followed, and the cascading began.

A long while later, when there were no more footsteps and voices outside nor echoes of her own sobbing inside to taunt and mock her, did she finally move.

Long golden hair tumbling behind her, she walked to the vase with its poisoned crimson roses and greedily drank its sweet content.

* * *

"What took you so long?" an arrogant voice asked, lounging on a recliner. His dark, brown locks messily surrounded his frame, his green eyes holding a lazy look.

Zoisite winced at the slight teasing, and sighed in defeat as he walked to an English oak chair and joined his friends around the table.

"She's awake, Nephrite."

"Ah, so that explains the defeated look," Nephrite grinned. "But why so long?"

He felt a migraine coming, which never did good things to his brain, and buried his silvery hair.

"She wasn't quite impressed with our services, and decided to aim her dinner at me."

Nephrite snorted and took a swig of brandy, pouring another for his dispirited friend. With a wave of a hand, Zoisite dismissed the offer, not wanting to increase his splitting headache. Giving a bemused look, Nephrite shrugged and drowned the glass himself.

He was ready to devour some more before a hand grabbed the bottle and placed it at the other end of the table.

"Damn," he swore, giving the offender an annoyed glare.

Jadeite simply raised the half-full bottle in a mocking toast and drained its contents.

"That spitfire causing you a bit of trouble, Jaddy my laddy?" Nephrite ducked just in time before the glass flew over his head and crashed to the floor. "Gah. That's the fourth time this week, and you've been in Chiston for half of it."

Zoisite groaned at the sound of breaking objects and had an urge to strangle his brother, despite the obvious difference in strength.

"So, how is she?" Pressed Nephrite, unconcerned with the display of temper seconds ago. "Worth the investment?"

Jadeite made a rude gesture, and Nephrite grinned.

"That good, eh?"

At his silence, the grinning general attempted another approach.

"I saw you with the lovely Lady Rachael in the Northern Chambers this morning, Zoi my boy."

Zoisite made a noise resembling one of a damsel in distress, and decided to face the wraith of his older brother.

"Explain," murmured Jadeite in the dangerous tone he used when referring to his women; his territory.

"She wanted to meet the girl, you see..." Zoisite trailed off nervously at the blonde's predator eyes.

"The girl?" Zoisite relaxed slightly at the change in Jadeite's attitude. "You mean you haven't discovered her name yet?"

Damn.

Nephrite snickered.

"Do you have any idea how much crap you – and I, because of you – are in?" Jadeite continued, ignoring the defeated look in his brother. "She should've thrown more than her food at you."

"Ah, my gentlemen," the glares directed to Nephrite not quite affecting him, "you do realise our pretty little prisoner will probably die of starvation without access to these particular... Resources."

"Something's not right."

"Now you're finally beginning to understand, Jadeite?" the blonde nodded slowly and Zoisite chose his next words carefully. "She's a prisoner. You killed her family. Shouldn't she be a bit more to handle?"

Nephrite tensed and shot a questioning glance at his fair friend.

"She knows who we are," Zoisite answered, "and she doesn't hide that fact. She's not trying to be in our 'good books', nor is she tearing the palace down. And if you saw how she acted that night, saw her eyes burn with unspoken malice, you would feel there's a problem here."

"I don't believe this," Jadeite muttered, and started pacing the room. "I might as well have killed her then."

"He wouldn't have allowed it," a deep voice spoke. Unconsciously, the three men straightened, immediately feeling the air of dignity around the general. His dark, shoulder length locks were kept tidily without a hair out of place, and the formal black attire worn in court with its silver golden cape suited one of his rank.

"Kunzite's right," Nephrite contributed. From the look of the general, he tried not to wince. "Oh, did that rhyme? It wasn't supposed to be mocking..."

"You're all a bunch of fat assed idiots," was the bellowed answer, freezing Jadeite mid-pace. "He wants her to be brought up to his chambers."

Kunzite surveyed the tense atmosphere and eyed the bottles of brandy.

"Now."

Zoisite stood to face this obstacle, but the gleam in his brother's eyes stopped him.

"I'll go."

And he was gone.

* * *

She wanted them to die, but was too tired, too hungry and in too much pain to do anything other than sit complacently in the soft, comfortable chair.

She wasn't dumb. Everyone knew one deadly man ruled the perilous kingdom of Sairelle, and she wanted him _dead_. Yet there was still too much ambiguity to how she arrived at this place and the workings of what she assumed was the palace. She must not raise attention herself, and accomplish her mission silently and swiftly before the stupid inhabitants of this land could acknowledge her existence.

Someone charged in, and she resumed a neutral expression, only to feel anger boiling to the surface.

He was in different clothing, but their condition as clean as their last encounter. She recognised the subtle similarities between him and the doctor, but those turquoise eyes held such cruelty and arrogance that she wanted to rip them out with her fingers.

Jadeite saw the flames beneath her gaze and felt satisfaction for fuelling her anger, despite the odd feeling wondering why she wasn't expressing that fury. He smiled and grabbed her left wrist, uncaring of bruising, and dragged her out the room.

It slightly unnerved him that she made no noise, no attempts to struggle, or react to the obvious pain he was causing her, and followed obediently. Her feet made no noise, and he realised she wore no shoes, only cold skin touching colder marble. Yet she did not shiver nor complain, but simply trailed where he tugged ruthlessly. No noise, silent as a predator hunting its prey.

He stumbled along his thoughts, and was surprised when she didn't crash into him after the steadfast pace. Angry with himself for being scared by a worthless Chiston, and at her for having the nerve to challenge him mentally whether she realised or not, Jadeite pulled on her arm with brutal force and charged towards his destination.

Still she made no sound.

They approached a mahogany door intricately engraved with runes from a language she did not recognise. Jadeite released his hold on her and straightened his clothes in a superior manner. The woman felt an urge to nurse her pained wrist, but ignored the soreness and clenched her jaw before a biting remark could escape.

The door opened, and admiration swept over her. If the light, creamy atmosphere of 'her' room was tastefully decorated, then this magnificent room of dark, rich colours held the unbridled passion giving a reluctant touch to its decor, seeping to the surface.

She saw the man and was given a hint of the power splayed across the room. He was tentatively holding a hand up to a painting, a multitude of glorifying, dark tones. She had appreciated the light embraces of subtle shades in pastels and found the results gorgeous, but what lay before her took her breath away. The shadows and silhouettes played and fought each other, neither winning the game to create the complete darkness, leaving behind traces of the war in its stunning landscape.

She hadn't realised when the man turned towards the trespassers in his private moment, but she found absently that there was no reason to, as what she immersed in embodied what he was.

He spoke, and she heard that voice. Richly cultivated, echoing in the obscurity, and more dangerous than on the battlefield, in the only place that epitomised in possessiveness and control: his personal territory.

"What do you think?"

She shuddered and was captivated by his sapphire eyes, as cold and beautiful as the precious stone. She felt his hands caressing her skin, lips brushing her neck, with those eyes. She felt his sword ruthlessly sheathed in her burning body, submitting herself wordlessly, with those eyes. She felt hatred, with those eyes.

"What is her name?"

Her light, silvery voice floated through the room, defying everything that he was in that quiet, indifferent tone.

"_As the Eagle Flies_."

His dark, sensuous voice, accepting her unspoken challenge.

"Leaving destruction in its wake."

Her restrained, refined voice, acknowledging his understanding.

"What is yours?"

She paused, unwilling to venture on foreign land without consideration. Yet the sound of that tone was embedded in her mind, both a precious treasure held dear and an effective weapon against her. That same tone, initiating a challenge of his own, establishing his authority and grounds. Piano and forte, with nothing in between.

"Serena."

* * *

A few references: The _waterlily_ painting was supposed to evoke thoughts of Monet's work for the readers. The Generals are referred to as _Shitennou_, the _Four Heavenly Kings_ in the manga, and I decided to play around with that. Zoisite's silver hair colour and Kunzite's shoulder length black hair and clothing was inspired by the live action Sailor Moon series, _Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon_. All else (minus the characters, obviously) are all creations of my mind, I suppose.

I received overwhelming feedback from the prologue, and the high expectations scared me quite a bit. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed this little tidbit, though I must express my apologies in advance as the next chapter might not be due for quite a while.


	3. Chapter 2

**As the Eagle Flies**

Apologies for the extreme (understatement of the century) delay, and I hope you'll enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 2

"Serena."

No more than a breath, the simple syllables being formed almost hesitantly. She closed her eyes, afraid to accept hearing her name spoken by his tongue, the magnificent room created and decorated so finely that it embraced every sound and released it, giving them its gift of acoustics.

The heavy door closed, the wood softly clicking, emanating a sense of foreboding.

"Please take a seat."

He eyed her and gave a tiny nod toward the large armchair, before proceeding to his own recliner.

She was trapped in the moment, trapped in the direct and open gaze of his depthless eyes, trapped in the almost unnoticeable ebony wisps sighing with his movement, trapped in the sensuous texture of his voice.

She carefully made her way to the seat, aware that she was already drawn to him, already caught in the intrigue surrounding him.

"Who are you?" she questioned, looking at him, into him, daring him to answer.

He smiled. A cruel, seducer's smile, its purpose to send the victim shivering with terror as they fought to escape, even as they surrendered to their needs of sealing the same look in their minds.

Serena's gaze unwavered.

In that moment, he knew he had finally found his match. Someone who would be afraid not of his power, but him; someone who would respect not his commands, but his wishes. Someone who was a friend, an enemy – an equal.

"I am Darien."

"Darien..."

She tested his name, just as he had done hers, and the darkness kissed the sound of her voice.

He suppressed a shudder as he felt the light, silky tendrils of her voice weaving an intricate pattern around him, helpless against her whispered breath. Vaguely, he imagined the feel of that smoke of air on his face and neck, as his hands travelled across her body, softly encouraging her to caress his name again...

"What do you want with me?" He cursed his body's betrayal when her icy tone returned, her expression once again focused and challenging.

Feigning disinterest, he gestured at the plate of delicacies sitting on the table between them. "Would you like something to eat?"

"Answer my question." It was a determined request accompanied by the feral look he recognised from several nights ago. He was going to enjoy this.

"Perhaps some wine?" He lifted his own glass and waited for her to do the same. She studied him, unmoving. Shaking his head slowly, he allowed his lips to curl slightly, internally smirking when he saw her eyes light in rage.

"What amuses you so?" He could see her begin to tremble as she murmured, could hear the quivers in her voice which he knew as something far from indications of fear, and suspected that her self-control was slipping – fast.

"Nothing really," he replied, taking a small sip of wine, his eyes never leaving hers and the smile evident through the transparent glass even as he drank.

He saw the tremors turn into shaking, saw the brisk tilt of her head as she clenched her jaw, sending golden curls tumbling over her shoulder. When she spoke gain, he could feel the rage and anger dancing around him.

"Take me to your Prince." Her demand caught him off guard, his smile fading. He was suddenly glad that she was looking at the mahogany table, and had not caught the shadows playing across his face. "Take me to this spineless dog whom you serve, this filthy mongrel who hides as his knaves plunder thoughtlessly. Take me to this heartless whoreson you call _'Prince'_."

She lifted her face, and he saw the hatred embedded like silver stones in her cerulean eyes, like the blood after battles which soaked into the earth, stains impossible to remove. And for the first time, he acknowledged this dangerous game he was playing.

"I'm afraid I cannot do that," he answered, careful to keep his voice light. "His Majesty is currently... Unavailable."

She laughed, the eerie, thin sound sending a chill to his bones. When he searched her eyes, he no longer found the rage he expected, but a blank, cold glaze which he could nearly identify as indifference.

"How very convenient," she purred, the venom in her words warning him as he imagined eliciting a similar sound from her. "Please send my regards to him, as I am obviously unable to personally thank him for his generosity."

Her obvious sarcasm stung him, and his mind roared when she briskly stood and turned toward the large doors.

"Wait," he cried, a part of him desperate for her to remain, despite knowing it would be futile. "Please, stay a little longer."

He could tell that she hadn't expected his outburst, but the astonishment disappeared as she narrowed her eyes, body tense.

"Who are you?" She asked a different question this time, one that demanded more than a simple name to attach a face to in the vast sea of enemies she was surrounded by. "What do you want with me?"

He had avoided answering her once, and he knew he couldn't risk it a second time. Taking a deep breath, he looked at her.

"I just want your company," he hoped he conveyed as much of the sincerity he felt. "That is all."

"I do not want yours." Her indecisive tone cut him, but he dismissed the sick feeling within him, and challenged her.

"Why?"

She had almost seemed surprised at the indignant question, as if her reason was an obvious declaration evident to anyone who laid their eyes upon her when she walked the halls, gossip and whispers floating around her. The understanding clicked within him, like the inevitable closing of a birdcage after the prisoner was returned to its chambers.

"Because you're—"

"Sairellen." And almost came to regret it.

His words once again startled her, the obvious bitterness in his tone sending her to look away in something akin to shame. "Yes."

"And so you will judge me based on my background," he bit out, feeling the spark lit in his chest, sending its power roaring through his body. Her cowed head did not hide her tenacity, and he felt that flame flare wildly. "You have already made your decision about me."

At her silence, he continued, unleashing the fire. "You cannot even disregard your prejudice for an evening, and instead choose to make unjust assumptions of my character based on a triviality."

He let out a barely controlled breath, and tightened his fists, ignoring the ache in his bones from the pressure.

"You think murder is trivial?" she asked, dangerously soft.

"I had nothing to do with it," he defended, nails biting his palm.

"You serve the murderer." Her voice was a cross between a warning whisper and a savage snarl. "Do you think an entire group of soldiers raping a woman in my village countless times then burning her alive is trivial? Do you think chortling and spitting at the thorough removal of a child's fingers and tossing them into a stew, forcing their father to drink is trivial? Do you think taunting a defenceless man to duel with a blunt stick against an armoured and armed soldier, who with laughter and satisfaction drove his blade through his abdomen – not enough to kill instantly – when he had spurred enough amusement for the army, is trivial?"

She paused, noted his stunned expression, and then continued in a voice which was soft, too soft. "Would you think it trivial if it was _your_ family being ridiculed and teased like animals, and finally slain before your very own eyes?"

He felt sick. Sick from the descriptions she gave, sick from the calm expression on her face which resembled a china doll's carefully painted porcelain, and sick because unlike her, he could not face the realities of what one side's victory meant to those who lost.

"I'm sorry," he choked hoarsely, not daring to meet her accusing eyes.

She turned around and pulled the heavy door open without a further sound, leaving him with an untouched plate of _Capezzoli di Venere_, his appetite long lost.

* * *

She was lost, hungry and so very cold. She did not know how much time had passed, just as she failed to register the hallways after having turned the fourth corridor. Her bare feet had moved silently against the tiled floor, and she had successfully avoided encounters with anyone she passed. The longer she walked and the further she strayed from the room, the more something dimmed inside her. She had set out with a strong, resolute intention to seek out the Prince and gather her information to find ways of destroying him, but that determination faded as she realised how futile this aimless search in a foreign place with no direction was. 

A door opened to her left, and she jumped, barely stifling her cry. Her heart thundered as she stumbled, sure that her presence was revealed.

Strong arms steadied her, and she felt the inviting warmth of the large man, hot against her chilled body.

She had barely regained her balance when she pushed him away roughly, ignoring the slight breeze which sliced her from the movement. "Don't touch me."

"Whoa, someone got up on the wrong side of her bed." His voice was brusque yet playful, evoking memories of careless twirling in the fields with her father on lazy summer afternoons. She hated him for that reminder.

"I ended up on the wrong side of the border," she threw at him, willing herself to direct her anger at this inconsiderate, rude man.

"Oh, so you're the one they brought from Chiston." The recognition and delight was clear, but she did not know why. "I've been wanting to take a glimpse of you all day."

"Here's your eyeful," she snapped, burning at a thought of being a source of amusement for these people. "Are you satisfied?"

"Very," he smiled, resting a large palm on her arm, "and I would be extremely pleased if you would care to join me for some late supper."

Before she could protest, he hauled her inside the room, her body too weak to resist the strength of his insistent tugging.

"Bastard," she grumbled, eying him suspiciously as he pulled out a chair for her. She would not succumb to his assumption that she would obey him like a trained dog. "I'm not hungry."

She took a look at the feast laid on the table, and the aroma of cooked meat registered in her mind, compelling her. She was suddenly aware of the emptiness and ache in her stomach, and the urgent need to eat something overwhelmed her. But she would not give in; she would resist...

The room spun around her, and she felt her body swaying. The man rushed over and held her for a moment before sitting her down, piling the plate before her with a variety of dishes.

"Eat," he commanded, helping her take the fork. She whimpered, and he strengthened his hold. "Unless you want me to feed you."

She managed to give him a weak glare before taking a piece of meat and chewing it thankfully, trying to savour the rich, lush flavour she had never tasted before. She ate slowly, attempting to clear her mind from the dizziness still humming in her ears, and at the same time struggling to show him the strength and courage which had become so difficult to maintain. She took a hesitant mouthful of the thick stew, feeling her senses relax at the smooth, soothing liquid, though she willed herself against it.

When she had cleared the plate, the man refilled it, giving her a sly, knowing glance when she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Eat," he repeated, somewhat gently. "You know you want it."

Too tired to fight, she obeyed, and devoured the assortment of meats and vegetables faster than the last plate. When she was finally finished, she wiped her mouth carefully with a napkin, unsure of what to say. She was revitalised, if only by a bit, but had sacrificed the only thing she could cling to - her dignity – in turn.

"I won't thank you for this," she hurled at him, though she was grateful that the queasiness had disappeared, and that her body was warmed considerably by the delectable soup.

"I didn't expect you to," he smiled kindly, stabbing her with its authenticity. "But, you are now obliged to tell me a bit about yourself."

"I owe you nothing," she replied tentatively, unsure of how to interpret this seemingly heartfelt friendliness.

"Well, I suppose you don't, considering I haven't properly introduced myself yet." He extended a hand, which she hesitantly took. "I'm Nephrite, and it's nice to meet you."

Another mineral, another one of those _Four Heavenly Kings_, who she came to know as the cruellest warriors in this country. She shrunk back from him.

"Do not be so quick to judge," he said in a gentle tone, the humour absent. "I am not like them. And they are not who you think they are."

"Aren't you?" She had a distant look in her eyes, and he knew he had to tread carefully. "Aren't they?"

He knew it was pointless to present his perspective – she was not one who would be easily persuaded by sweet words and promises.

"Perhaps if you come to know us—"

"I do not crave such a pleasure," she interrupted him, feeling slightly guilty at his hurt expression.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, bowing his head in respect, his simple words affecting her more than Darien's had. Perhaps it was the genuine lenience she felt from him, which the other man had lacked. "We have done many cruel things, and I am not proud of it."

She too lowered her head, acknowledging his apology. It was so unfair, to have so many people suffer under the hands of those who ruled, especially when there were individuals in higher positions who must obey their orders despite their personal opinions and feelings.

"I am an orphan." She looked up, surprised at these words, which came from an enemy. "My parents were slain in the last war against Chiston, and I had sworn to avenge them when I had the power."

She was about to protest when she realised with another stab of guilt, that she should show him the basic elements of courtesy when he seemed to trust her without question.

"At first, I revelled in the deaths of my enemies." He paused, and glanced ruefully at her. "I had felt that justice was finally served, and basked in the glory that my position had brought. Perhaps I had simply performed the tasks for too long, and instead of having my feelings numbed by the repeated routines, an awareness started rising within me. Perhaps I had acknowledged at some point during my service that the revenge I sought had been fulfilled, and any further action on my behalf would become nothing short of murder. Or perhaps, I had only made myself believe that I was capable of ordering men to kill, that I would not be affected by the consequences of my instructions, when the truth was..."

He felt the waves of nausea course through him, and he could almost see the mutilated corpses, smell the acidic tang of burnt flesh in the air. The changes in his attitude had occurred so gradually and consistently, that he could not recall a single moment when he had been proud of being a general, could no longer relate to the childish ideas he was now unable to identify with. And revealing his hidden emotions to the silent, dignified woman waiting patiently for him to continue, made him realise with remorse that he should finally face those feelings.

_We owe her an explanation for what happened to her village, and it looks like I'm the only one who's going to give it. _The silence was broken by the gentle hum of wine being poured, and he took that moment to compose himself. Taking a swig of the alcohol, he allowed it to burn away those memories, forcing himself to continue.

"Many of those killed under my command were innocent peasants who were caught up in the ruthless game for power by our monarchs. They have forever fixed their eyes on land, fortune and titles, and they will do anything to get what they want." He looked into her expressionless eyes, willing her to understand. "I do not want to be a player anymore."

"Then don't." Her simple words washed away the disgust and guilt, and he felt that in some way, he had been forgiven by the non-judgemental way she had answered.

"I can't..." He sighed, suddenly unsure of how much she knew, how much he had inadvertently given away, placing the kingdom in danger because of his own selfish need for repentance. "I owe him my life."

"Who?" It was almost a rhetorical question – in her eyes, he saw that she knew the answer.

"The one who befriended me, accepted me when I had no place in this world," he replied slowly. "The one who gave me an education, a home, an identity."

"Who?" she asked again in the same calm, controlled manner. He tried to withdraw from the discussion; she pressed on. "Tell me."

He shifted uncomfortably and knew the small amount of hard-earned trust was in danger if he stalled further, or if he lied to her. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to answer.

The click of the door opening broke the silence of the night, startling Nephrite from responding. He glanced at the plates before him, and knew there was no time to usher Serena into his bedroom chambers. His training and experience of needing to remain calm and think rationally during perilous situations kicked in, which resulted in a dozen reasons to justify why she was in his room.

"Darien."

The curt acknowledgement from Serena and the furious glare Darien cast him made Nephrite glad that he did not answer.

"Serena." The name rolled off Darien's tongue in a low whisper, laced with anger.

Unsure whether he was thankful or disturbed by the interruption, Nephrite gathered his nerves and planted the usual quirky grin.

"Well met, Darien! Care for a drink?" Serena shot him a suspicious look at his cheerful tone, and he replied with a wink. "I hope you don't mind the company, but I can see you're already well-acquainted." 

"Barely," was the cold remark Serena made at the same time Darien drawled, "We're getting there."

"Well, well, agreeing already." Nephrite smiled as he pulled a chair for Darien opposite Serena, and he forced himself to keep grinning as he saw the silent command Darien's eyes issued, one which he dared not disobey. "I'm going to loot the kitchen, please don't touch anything breakable while I'm gone."

He gave Serena a small smile and lightly touched her shoulder in an unspoken apology. To the men's surprise, she did not recoil, but covered his hand with her own.

When she tilted her head to look at him, Nephrite's tension eased at the understanding expression she held.

"Thank you," she whispered. His smile widened, and he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, careful to avoid eye contact with Darien, and left his room.

Serena watched his retreating figure thoughtfully, and turned to face the fuming man who sat across her.

"You let him touch you," he accused, barely containing his rage. "Have you fallen in love with one of your sworn enemies?"

Her impassive look fuelled his anger. "He is not my enemy. My war is with the Prince."

"Why are you so keen on him?" he snapped, irritated with her persistence.

"He owes me a debt which can only be paid in his blood," Before he could retort, she spoke bitterly. "Why are you so defensive of him?"

He froze, unsure of how to answer. How was he expected to reply, and how would she react to his response? Aware that the lingering silence would betray him, he spoke slowly, drawing out his words. "I have declared my loyalty to him," he cleared his throat, "and he favours me."

She seemed to accept this, and he decided to ask a question of his own. "Why do you treat me with such coldness when you are so receptive of Nephrite?"

"Because I don't like you." Her words penetrated him, and he tasted the unfamiliar bitterness of rejection.

"Is that because I serve the Prince," he asked, trying hard to hide his desperation for her answer, "or because he favours me?"

"It's your arrogance and ignorance about your situation that fills me with disdain."

He dug his nails into the hard surface of the table, unsure whether she had somehow managed to piece together what little information she had gathered, or if her conclusion was just another one of her uninformed and unfounded assumptions. "What do you know of my situation?"

"Only that you take advantage of your position, and cruelly crush other people's lives with your thoughtless commands. And that is enough for me to form my opinion."

He drew back with a mixture of relief and surprise - so it was the latter. "You have mistaken me for a general." His muscles eased, his sour reaction to her previous biting words diminishing.

"Then you are his whore?" she asked sweetly, her eyes glinting maliciously at the shocked look he had as the realisation of her implications dawned on him. She took this opportunity to leash the fear brewing within her, as she realised her mistake in assuming his identity. Stubbornly, she convinced herself that she had the right to judge her enemies harshly, though she knew her beliefs did not change the reality that she was in fact completely oblivious to the kind of man he was.

He laughed unexpectedly, and against her own will, she found that she liked how his relaxed arm brushed away the locks dancing across his glittering eyes, the warmth of his voice sending a chill down her spine.

"I'm afraid I must inform you that His Majesty prefers women," he smiled, the laughter still swimming in his sapphire eyes. He paused for a moment, considering his next words carefully – words which once revealed cannot be unsaid, just as the pressing a pianoforte's keys would result in the ringing of notes he would be powerless to withdraw. "I am the royal tamer of predatory birds."

It all made sense now – the painting in his room, the feline grace with which he moved, the predatory and possessive qualities he seemed to embody. She felt her fear increasing, along with her interest and admiration for him.

"You participate in falconry?" She couldn't keep the amazement and appreciation from her voice. Birds of prey were feared and respected in Chiston, and not many had dared to gamble their lives in the dangerous sport of luring and taming the magnificent, savage creatures.

"I favour not the traditional falcons or hawks," he replied, finding that he liked seeing her wide, slightly reverent eyes, the only positive emotion she had regarded him with. "They are grand animals, but are no match for the nobility and splendour of eagles."

Her heart skipped at beat, and she looked at him with renewed deference and awe. Out of the predatory birds, eagles were the most dangerous and beautiful creatures, a symbol of power and freedom. This man who she unfairly misjudged had the courage and will to work with the highly esteemed beasts.

Sensing her wonder, Darien used this opportunity to hold a conversation where he wasn't defending himself from her attacks, and found he was enjoying the experience.

"They are full of doubt and almost impossible to control when first captured, but when they realise I mean them no harm and the bloodthirsty look is gone from their eyes, it is not difficult to tame them." He found his stomach jumping at the way her soft lips were slightly parted, the way her intense cerulean eyes were hanging onto his every word. "Sometimes it takes a wound when I try to stroke their feathers and I do not recoil nor attack, only continuing the petting, for them to change their opinion of me. Sometimes it takes them to see from the bars of their cage, another eagle flying to my beckoning, and realise that their freedom does not mean a loss of dignity, but can earn them a companion. Sometimes it takes me to recognise that their desperation to escape is for the sake of returning to their defenceless mate, and I become obliged to free them from their confinement in the hope that they will someday return with appreciation."

"The ones you let go, do they always come back?" she asked, the wonder clearly evident in her voice. She had allowed his passionate descriptions to evoke her senses, had allowed the sensuous timbre of his voice to wash through her like the warm, luxurious water of a fragranced bath on chilly autumn evenings. He had allowed her to take a glimpse at a completely different side of him, which had in turn stirred indescribable feelings within her, and she found herself eager to discover more of this new world he was offering.

"Not always," he replied sadly, remembering the desperate flurry of wings that followed their release. "But it is not in my right to condemn their lives on the basis of my selfishness, resulting in a lifeless, dull creature who obeys only because they remember the cruelty defiance will bring."

She was slightly taken aback at his revelation, unsure of how to interpret this new light on his integrity. Absently, she wondered if he would release her, were he in the position to do so.

Darien regarded her contemplative features, and found his heart thumping wildly at the distant look she held. He realised that he wanted to spend more time with her – unbolt the iron gate behind which he knew the sweet and playful facets of her personality were hidden, unlock the secrets which swam behind those piercing blue eyes. The task would be a difficult and challenging one, where he must somehow gain her trust in a subtle manner without pushing the boundaries she had set between them. He knew that despite her obvious interest in the eagles, she would never forsake her dignity to openly request from him, and he was afraid any initiative on his part would appear dubious to her sharp mind.

"Would you like to see them tomorrow?" he offered, suddenly unsure of her answer, afraid that he had made another wrong assumption about her.

She regarded him carefully, and his heart froze at the suspicion and distrust in those clear cerulean eyes, eyes that abruptly became devoid of emotion, unreadable to him. Their gazes were locked in a breathtaking moment – Darien feeling the raw exposure her intense eyes had inflicted, Serena helpless against the sincerity of his cobalt orbs. Slowly, almost unwillingly, she nodded.

"I would like that very much," she said quietly. Her expression softened, and his heart instantly melted at the ghost of a smile touching her lips, and her next words, ones which she whispered almost shyly, rang pleasantly in his ears. "Thank you."

* * *

Nephrite knocked incessantly on the plain oak door, causing several servants to cast him strange looks from the corner of their inquisitive eyes. He had triggered enough commotion and heated gossip in the past to be concerned by the onlookers, and he pounded harder when there was no response, sending the thunderous vibrations echoing down the hallway. 

The door opened, and a very disgruntled Zoisite emerged. "What is it this time, Nephrite?"

"Hey, how did you know it was me?" He asked bemusedly, his urgency temporarily forgotten.

"No one else in this entire country makes as much noise as you," Zoisite yawned, covering his mouth. "Please don't tell me you dragged me out of bed just to prove that point – I would much rather preferred granting you the honour minus the midnight rendezvous."

"I love hearing you spout intelligent gunk when you're half-awake and all rumpled up," Nephrite teased, ruffling the man's silver hair to the obvious annoyance of Zoisite. Abruptly Nephrite paused, voice quietening. "There is something I need to inform you of."

Sensing the change, Zoisite gestured for him to enter, proceeding to light a few candles on the large table until the sitting room was considerably brightened. He strode to the wine cabinet and reached for Nephrite's favourite beverage when his friend stopped him.

"This is very serious?" Zoisite asked, looking at the large hand on his arm. His eyes travelled upward until they met Nephrite's, and when he nodded grimly, Zoisite felt a twinge of dread settle in his stomach. "Explain."

"I saw the girl," Nephrite said carefully, though he was sure his friend would refrain from judging until hearing all the facts. "I also managed to encourage her to eat a substantial amount of my supper, and then held a rather productive conversation with her."

Zoisite remained silent, a sign that he was encouraging him to continue.

"Her name is Serena."

"That's a rather pretty and uncommon name," Zoisite replied slowly, unsure of what to say.

"Yes, it is," agreed Nephrite, and his mind drifted to the sincere compassion she had treated him with. "And she is a very caring young lady."

Zoisite's eyed widened in shock, and he suddenly felt very afraid for the strong man who stood before him. Carefully, he formed the words to question Nephrite, fearing his response. "Do you seek something sexual from her?"

Nephrite laughed, a genuinely hearty sound which eased Zoisite. "No, not at all! And here I am, supposedly awed by your intellect. No... I merely wish to be friends with her, if she allows that much."

"Then what is the problem?" Zoisite suddenly felt the anxiety return – was this something more severe than his earlier paranoia? "Surely you can somehow obtain permission to indulge her, as she is not simply held here as a normal prisoner."

"Yes, that is possible..." Nephrite trailed off, feeling slightly relieved at knowing Zoisite's words were true, that the opportunity really existed. "However... I fear for her."

"She is no doubt highly in danger due to her situation and the current events of war around us, but there is no need to fear for her life. She has her uses though we are not informed of them, and it is him who has ordered for us to handle her with civility and respect."

"It's him." Nephrite's words froze Zoisite, and he felt the realisation starting to dawn. "It is because of him, that I fear for her."

"Has he changed her mind?" Although he did not care much for the girl, Zoisite feared the worried expression on the usually good-natured general. "Has he informed you of his decision personally?"

"No, I don't think he has," Nephrite replied to the former question before finding a way to answer the latter. "Perhaps he was going to confide something in me, but he had happened to trespass while Serena was in my room."

"How did he react?" Zoisite felt the uneasiness clench in his throat, hating the fact that he could only wait for Nephrite to provide what he needed to know.

"Furious, although it was slightly more than I had anticipated." Nephrite sighed, hoping that the silver-haired general would be able to provide a logical explanation for what he was about to reveal. "What worries me though, is that..."

He swallowed, and looked Zoisite in the eye, lips drawn in a thin line.

"Prince Endymion has introduced himself as 'Darien'."

* * *

Before anyone decides to flame me for any inaccuracies in regards to hawking, please acknowledge that despite the amount of research I have undertaken on the topic, this is a work of fiction, and the timeline/locations do not correlate to any historical events. Please also keep this in mind when evaluating similar content of future chapters. 

I'd love to know what you guys think about any of the characters/plot/etc, and would really appreciate if you could pop me a few words if you have any time to spare. Unfortunately, I will not be able to update again this month, but I promise you that November will be full of productivity (yayayayayayayay!). And let's hope that I won't fail my university entrance exams, which start in two weeks... Thanks for all of your patience!


	4. Chapter 3

**As the Eagle Flies**

I concede that Jonathan is the best editor/grammar-genius/Rachy-lover in the world... of Tchaikovsky dominated goodness. Thanks also goes to everyone who sent me their lovely comments, and to all those who are reading this particular piece.

This chapter has one of my favourite scenes, and I'd love to know what you guys think about it (you'll probably see what I'm talking about). Also, be on the lookout for themes/motifs if you feel up to it!

* * *

Chapter 3

Zoisite stumbled back from the revelation, panic clearly written across his usually calm face. "But he hasn't used that name since—"

"Yes, I know..." Nephrite took a seat by the table, chin in one hand. "What do you think it means?"

"Either he regards her as somebody special, which I highly doubt, or he's being extremely cautious so that she won't find out who he really is." They both knew on an instinctive level what Zoisite was saying, but the quiet syllables escaping from his mouth seemed to make their situation that much more realistic – that much more dangerous. "Either way, we must abide by his introduction, and assume our respective roles..."

"I have already introduced myself to her," Nephrite interrupted, feeling both guilt and an overwhelming sense of dread, "and she knew about us." He lifted his head and sheepishly grinned to the other general, who was still standing. "Do you think it's because we're famous?"

Zoisite returned the smile, which faded as quickly as it appeared. "No... I told her. I told her about all four of us."

"Then what are we going to do? He hasn't given us any specific instructions yet—"

"No, but he will." Sighing, the slim man took the seat opposite his companion. "We may have _only just_ been caught up in this intrigue, but I do not doubt our Prince is ahead by many steps. In fact... he is the one who has established this game. The rules are his, and his alone."

* * *

They had been sitting together, lost in their own thoughts, shrouded by a silence that was uncomfortable yet welcomed. Though his well-defined face appeared to be calm and controlled, a dangerous torrent swirled beneath the undisturbed surface. There were many questions he wanted to ask, many statements he wanted to make, but the logical, calculating part of him reined his desire to submit himself to her. He knew that she was the one who could lead him either to victory or demise, and the outcomes depended on how well he played his part. 

But it was so difficult for him. So hard to think properly when she sat within arm's reach, the distant look she held softening her features. So hard to breathe properly when every slow, deliberate blink of her eyes allowed gentle lashes to brush against her cheeks, a sensation he itched to feel... He felt his muscles tighten as he once again fought his instincts to possess, to dominate, and decided enough time had passed since she last spoke.

"Perhaps you should get back to your room for some rest," he suggested quietly, acutely aware of the way she stiffened at the voice which interrupted her thoughts. "It's getting rather late, and—"

"Where is Nephrite?"

He managed to maintain his demeanour despite the subject of her question, giving a nonchalant shrug which he hoped her careful scrutiny would accept. "Perhaps something unexpected came up which he deemed more interesting than us." When she looked unconvinced, he added, "Nephrite's like that – spontaneous at times, and always brimming with enthusiasm."

She relaxed a bit, and her lips curled slightly. "You must be quite close to him... He seems to have such a lonely past, which he was hesitant to speak of..." Her voice trailed off, and she glanced at him almost shyly, causing his stomach to leap unexpectedly. "Do you know what happened?"

_More than you realise._

"I am aware of a few details, but it is not in my right to disclose them..." He sounded unsure, though he inwardly triumphed at her lack of suspicion.

All of a sudden, Serena felt torn. She respected this man's honour and integrity, though it was obvious he wanted to gain her trust. At the same time, she realised that the barriers and guards these people hid behind meant that it would take more effort to obtain what she needed to take her revenge...

"Please," Darien's voice was quiet, urgent, "you should return to your chambers before..."

"Before what?" she prompted, firmly grasping the thread of information he had accidentally loosened. Her eagerness was not lost on Darien, who felt the howls of laughter rumbling within him.

"Before _he_ finds out..."

_Him_. The ruthless Prince who ruled this savage kingdom. Everything clicked into place, and Serena felt ashamed for putting others in danger, when her battle was with the Prince alone.

"Could you possibly show me the way?" she asked, leashing the fury and shame she felt when he nodded with a pitiful look, and forced herself to whisper empty words of gratitude. She had to appear humble and appreciative, had to endure their mocking smiles and accusing eyes, to deceive her enemies. She had to create that single opportunity to smother the one man capable of so much destruction, and to do that, she had to play her own game, to deceive her enemies.

_But never in all my charades,_ she swore to herself as Darien led them through the corridors, _will I ever deceive__ myself._

* * *

Darien closed the door to Serena's rooms, his shoulders involuntarily sagging. Receiving her had been more difficult than he had imagined, and he was slightly apprehensive of how his behaviour toward her should be in the future, if so much suspicion, doubt and anxiety had been caused during their first meeting. 

_And of course, the unexpected second confrontation._

He made a mental note to approach Nephrite and the others about this matter. In fact, there were a number of people he needed to instruct...

_Tonight might have been difficult..._ he straightened with a new confidence, starting on the familiar route, _but your rebellious nature will soon give way to submission. And before you realise it's too late, you will be mine._

His weariness faded, replaced with a rekindled fire, intense in its clarity, intent on its purpose. He knew there would be no sleep tonight – it was time to make minor adjustments to his plans, and allow them to fall into place.

He looked down at the intricate carvings on the gold handle of his study, and smiled.

* * *

The sun had barely risen when Zoisite jerked awake at the steady knocks which came from his door. A quick glance to his left confirmed that the demand for attention wasn't coming from Nephrite. 

"Just a moment," he groaned, getting up from his chair. He suppressed any further embarrassing sounds as he heard several of his bones cracking, and tried to ignore the ache in his legs and the tension in his shoulders. There was a reason why intelligent people didn't sleep overnight on cushion-less chairs. "Nephrite, get up. Somebody's at the door."

The dark-haired general was not as restrained as his friend, and he not only grunted at his awakening, but followed it with a string of curses.

"I'll take that offer on the brandy now," he said roughly, stretching his stiff body. The knocking resumed after the momentary pause following Zoisite's comment, and Nephrite swore in reply.

Kunzite found that enough of an invitation, and opened the door. Zoisite straightened his posture, giving a small bow of acknowledgement. Nephrite broke out in a grin.

"Is there something going on between you and Zoi that I don't know about?" he teased, laughing at the look of disapproval Kunzite gave him. "So what brings you to Zoi's bedroom chambers, so early in the morning?"

"I could ask the same of you," was Kunzite's irritated reply. "Seeing you've spent the night with Zoisite," — a quick scan of Nephrite's dishevelled hair and appearance confirmed this — "one is invited to draw... Scandalous conclusions."

Nephrite doubled over at his words, taking quite a while to recover. "That is the closest thing to a joke I've ever heard you make, so I'll disregard your accusations."

Zoisite barely restrained the sigh gnawing at the back of his throat, and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain his usual control. _Why do I always have a headache when these guys are around?_

"I'm sure this is an urgent matter," he said, the traces of fatigue evident in his face, "so could we possibly be informed of the reason why you require me, Lord Kunzite?"

The dark general instantly resumed his formal expression. "Very well. The Prince formerly requests the attendance of the Shitennou. Do you accept, Lord Zoisite?"

"I accept." They knew these words belonged to a custom of allowing those who served in court their deserved respect, giving them a false sense of security about their position. In theory, when any individual believed their liege was making the wrong decisions, they could choose to decline. In reality, there was no question when it came to their response.

"And you, Lord Nephrite?" Kunzite's dark eyes bore into Nephrite. "Do you accept?"

He knew the time would come when Endymion deemed it necessary to execute orders concerning their strange captive, and he knew what his answer would be. But, even as Nephrite placed his hand over his heart, bowing slightly and declaring "I accept" in all solemnity, he wondered if he was, in fact, able to accept Endymion's plans for the girl. And if he wasn't, what consequences would his refusal bring?

* * *

Darien absently swirled the glass, his expertise ensuring that none of the red liquid reached the brim. Perhaps it was considered strange, but he had always felt that red wine, especially the cabernet sauvignon, tended to awaken his senses rather than dull them. Even after taking the smallest sip, it always seemed as if the liquid awoke a small portion of himself which would become fine-tuned to his surroundings and thoughts. 

He could never properly explain his reaction before – in fact, the Shitennou had laughed at him and accused him of being drunk when he shared his sentiments. Nonetheless, Darien was aware of the advantageous effect red wine had on him, and had no hesitation in utilising it, even for the most important tasks.

As he swallowed a mouthful of the full-bodied alcohol, his spare hand traced the ink lines of the map before him. He could already envisage most of the territories falling under Sairelle. For so many years, he had been haunted by the promised images of the slightly changed markings which would symbolise the extension of the power he held over these lands. For months he had plotted, consulted numerous advisors, sent spies to infiltrate his enemy's homeland, and studied the history of battles before his time. He had poured over those strategies until his understanding allowed him to incorporate the events of the past into his own tactics – refined and perfected for his victory.

And the first in a string of successes happened three nights ago. His calculations were correct – the city had fallen, and the girl was in his hands. He had planned his moves carefully, and with the adjustments he had made throughout the night, he had no doubt that the empire of Chiston was soon about to tumble into his outstretched claws.

* * *

The Shitennou formed a line before the door, with Kunzite half a step before the others. As the leader of the Four, it was up to him to execute all the formalities and exchanges with their liege. Raising an arm to the gold door knocker, Kunzite felt the usual sense of respect for the powers represented by the formidable doors, and fear of the man who was waiting behind the thick mahogany. His fingers firmly lifted the round metal, and knocked once, twice, thrice. The sound resonated in the air, and Kunzite counted three heartbeats before pushing the door open. 

A stream of morning sun found its way through a gap between the thick crimson curtains, settling partially on Darien's unyielding form. As he turned to regard his generals, the light shifted until it only touched one side of his face, highlighting the smoothness of his skin and the finely chiselled features which made him both beautiful and handsome. It was almost impossible to see the other half of his face, where the shadows menacingly whispered of cruelty and anger, hidden from sight but prowling just beneath the surface. His black hair was tousled and almost wild, his deep blue eyes focused on a single intent – to claim, without mercy, without hesitation.

Silence enshrouded the room for a moment, as the occupants waited restlessly for their Prince to initiate this private meeting, which required the same etiquette and procedures as a formal court.

"You are standing here today because you serve the lands and people of Sairelle," Darien began the familiar initiation. "If you wish to withdraw the oaths you have taken, decline your loyalties now and be assured of the just execution you will receive."

The consequence of declining was death; the punishment for betrayal was brutal, unceasing torture.

No one moved.

"I have your unspoken pledges that what is discussed in today's meeting will not be conveyed to another," the Prince continued. "This private court now commences."

As the one in command of the First Imperial Army and thus highest in rank among the Shitennou, Kunzite stepped forward. "We are eager to consider your Highness' opinions, and to obey your commands."

Though the traditional opening lines were said, all of the men remained in their rigid positions, not daring to relax. The real issues were about to be brought forth.

"It should be obvious that a private court is held in this manner due to a particular addition to this kingdom." Darien's gaze moved across his generals, the extra moment's attention to Nephrite barely noticeable. "I have invested substantial amounts of time regarding our next course of action, and I wish to hear your opinions if they seem unsatisfactory.

"Two nights ago, the Fifth Army, led by Lord Jadeite, managed to successfully breach the defences of Tristone, and brought back the lady whom is now residing in an exclusive area in the vicinity of my private chambers." He paused for a moment, allowing the men to object to his arrangements if they detected a defect. As he expected, no objection came.

He continued, "Lord Jadeite is to be congratulated for the almost flawless execution of my orders." His steady gaze fixed on Jadeite. "I will allow your effective silencing of those Chistons who retaliated to override the minor error in your actions that night."

Jadeite took a step forward, and dropped onto one knee, head bent. "I am not worthy of your generosity." He spoke clearly, his neutral tone reflecting none of the words' meaning.

"Be wary of where you step in the future, Lord Jadeite," Darien replied, offering his left hand. "My orders are to be followed with the utmost precision, so that you may serve your country to the best of your abilities."

"I understand, your Highness." Jadeite kissed Darien's extended hand, rose, and took the same step backwards, once again in line.

"Our conquest of Chiston will gradually come to be, if we continue to persevere and adhere to one plan of action." Darien walked to the large table, and gestured at the map. "Our enemies will most likely try to reclaim the city only second to its capital, so we must fortify those walls. As I believe, the Fifth Army is currently stationed there. How many of our men inhabit Tristone, Lord Jadeite?"

"5000 infantry, your Highness," Jadeite replied, after taking a step from his line, "and 2000 cavalry. There are also approximately 1000 horses in their stables we could use. Should I transfer more of our men to utilise the horses?"

"I see no reason why we cannot," Darien said, barely hiding a smirk. "Tristone is ours now, and I sincerely hope you share my sentiments of ownership."

"Of course, your Highness," Jadeite bowed, "I will see it done immediately—"

Darien held up a hand, effectively silencing the blonde. "I do not recall directly issuing instructions pertaining to this matter." Jadeite clenched his jaw. This was the punishment he had to take for toying with the captured whore. "Lord Jadeite, simply being able to do something does not necessarily mean it is the best course of action. I have the power and authority to surrender our lands to Chiston, but surely you would not suggest I relinquish the kingdom of Sairelle?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Darien's pause made it clear that he wanted Jadeite to answer, giving the general no chance of escaping humiliation.

"I am in no position to suggest anything to you, your Highness," he replied carefully, knowing he was no match for Darien's wit and cruelty.

"Then are you relinquishing your position as general, Lord Jadeite?" Darien reached for his glass and took a sip of the wine, enjoying the game he was playing, one that he knew he was winning. "What would a leader be worth if he has the potential to lead his forces astray?" His eyes darted to Nephrite, who flinched when the attention was suddenly turned to him. "Or when he allows his indulgence for women and spirits to overrule judgement and common sense?"

Nephrite stepped forward, and with the same calculated movement as Jadeite's only moments ago, ending on one knee. "Please excuse my forthright manner, your Highness," he began, knowing he was taking a dangerous risk with his next words, "but I had hoped that you found her marginally more pleasant after my intervention." He took an unsteady breath when Darien raised an eyebrow, amused. "In fact, she might have ended up unconscious from lack of food and water, if I had not warmed her with my supper."

"Last night you warmed her tongue; tonight you may as well be warming her bed. Or would you revert back to your excuse of doing things in my interest, and make her 'adequately prepared' for my bed?"

There was a short silence as Nephrite forced himself to control his breathing. "I have no intention of doing such, your Highness." He was about to speak again, when Darien interrupted him.

"Save it. There are more important matters at hand." Darien waited for Nephrite to rise before continuing. "Tristone is a fortress city, built with exceptionally high walls. Zoisite, I want you to send 2000 archers there, and equip the current soldiers with bows and arrows. Try to use as many of the resources there rather than supplying our own gear. Replace any lame horses with suitable ones from the stables, although I expect most of their beasts haven't been trained for combat. When Chiston's forces attack, do not release the cavalry; your main purpose must be defence, and you are expected to maintain our control on the land your brother has conquered.

"In addition to this, I want a complete report on those who have survived. Gather information about the residents' ancestries, and interrogate, then dispose of anyone with sworn allegiance to Diamond. Take some ambassadors with you to speed the process along, and if anybody proves to be difficult, kill them.

"Gather up any of our minor nobility who are willing to occupy and rule after the Tristone inhabitants. Of course, they will have no power over the military, and the rule would only be temporary with a fair chance of death involved. It's best if you choose some half-witted idiots with no political conscience who have no mind to question – only to obey. Is this understood?"

Zoisite stepped out of the line, fist over heart, head dipped. "It will be done as you require, your Highness."

"I expect no less from you." It was not a compliment, but a warning to both Zoisite and the other Shitennou, were they to fail. "Kunzite, I want you to double the defence force at the border of the two countries, and then lead 5000 men to pillage and burn your way to their capital from Tristone. Be swift in your attack, and follow the path I have indicated on this map."

Kunzite accepted the map he was given, and studied it before passing it to the other men for their observation. "And once we reach their capital?" he asked, a step before his comrades.

"Do not make any attacks against the Cape Mortum, but return directly to Tristone, using the merchants' path." He waited until the rest of the Shitennou had seen the marked routes on the map and returned it Kunzite. "Is this satisfactory?"

The generals nodded. "It will take at least two days to prepare for the journey," Kunzite replied, "and I expect to leave three mornings from today."

"Very well. It is settled then," Darien spoke with conviction. The generals bowed in unison, waiting anxiously for his next words. "Are there any other matters here which are deemed worthy of discussion?"

A moment or two passed before Nephrite slowly took the step bringing him closer to his liege.

"I do not wish to make any assumptions about your plans, your Highness," he began tensely, "and it is because I am not inclined to make an erroneous calculation that I wish to ask about the role the lady plays in your schemes."

Darien held a queer, angry glint in his eyes, though his handsome face bore its usual neutral expression with the tiniest hint of amusement. "It looks like you cannot quite contain your curiosity, Lord Nephrite."

The general bowed respectfully. "It is not curiosity, your Highness, but concern." Darien raised an eyebrow, which Nephrite made no sign of noticing. "I am concerned for your safety, as we are not informed of her intentions and thoughts, making her a potential threat to this kingdom." _But no more than you are to her._

"I assure you, she is of no danger to us," Darien said quietly, his eyes raging. "No more than you are to this kingdom, if you do not keep your tongue leashed."

"I am not asking you to diverge all the details," Nephrite persisted, ignoring Zoisite's hand, which was lightly placed on his arm. "I only ask for you to share with us what you know—"

"What I know is none of your concern!" The unleashed temper ricocheted across the room, sending Nephrite trembling to both knees. "Your insolence will be tolerated no further than this. Do not make me regret taking you in!"

"My deepest apologies," Nephrite uttered, too shaken to say more. He was stupid to have disregarded the Prince's infamous temper, and now he had to pay for his mistake.

"This meeting is over," Darien snarled, downing the half-empty glass of wine. When no one moved, he hurled the glass onto the floor, which shattered upon contact with the marble. "Get out of my sight!"

The generals hastily made their way to the door, not daring to glance behind them. When Kunzite had barely turned the handle, Darien's voice stopped him.

"Kunzite, Nephrite, stay," he barked. "A few words in private."

Zoisite tried to give the remaining men a grim smile, before he left the room with his brother.

Aware that Nephrite was recovering from the earlier explosion, Kunzite spoke. "Your Highness?"

Darien sighed, then gestured at the broken glass. "Get someone to clean that, and make sure it's not the scrawny brunette who came in last week. I cannot stand the thought of her nauseating presence in my room."

Kunzite bowed in acknowledgement, though he did not see anything wrong with the servant in question. He knew that as long as he obeyed his Prince, his status and privileges would be maintained, and it would be foolish to give more than a moment's thought to anyone who gained Darien's disapproval.

Knowing better than to speak as the Prince paced the floor in agitation, Kunzite remained silent and waited for further instructions.

"Do you remember the specifics of the arrangements we discussed yesterday?" At Kunzite's short nod, Darien continued. "Is action ready to be taken?"

"Everything has been prepared and is at your disposal, your Highness," Kunzite replied without hesitation.

"Very good." Darien's lips turned into a cruel smile, and the men suppressed a shudder. "I want you to execute the plan right now."

"Understood, your Highness."

"You may leave now." Kunzite bowed at the dismissal, and left the room.

Left alone with his Prince, Nephrite tried swallowing to ease his nerves, not daring to look at Darien. There was a small amount of time in their history in which they were close companions creating all sorts of mischief during their childhood, but that relationship had ended the year Darien turned ten. Nephrite had always resented the growing distance between them, and although they had had their share of friendly tussles in the last few years, the smiles were only surface-deep. Until that morning, he had failed to completely understand Darien's position, and the powers he seemingly effortlessly held in his hand.

"Now, Nephrite."

He couldn't bear to look at Darien, not wanting to see the rage and disappointment that would be so obvious in his sapphire eyes. Instinct told him to run; training ensured that he remained, unmoving.

"Your earlier performance was quite... entertaining." Darien's voice was soft, deadly. "Tell me, what has inspired your sudden interest in the girl?"

Nephrite licked his lips. "I simply wish to understand why she is being kept here and treated with such caution. I am also afraid..." He trailed off, uncomfortably aware of the moisture in his clenched palms.

"For her?" It was barely a whisper, but it was thunderous to Nephrite's ears.

"For you, your Highness," Nephrite forced himself to say, feeling the reins on his emotions slipping.

"Look at me, Nephrite." When he made no movement, Darien repeated the command, this time with impatience. "Look at me."

Nephrite raised his head, and met the malevolent gaze of his Prince. In that moment, he felt those knowing sapphire eyes piercing through all his barriers, clearly seeing his deepest fears and desires. He knew he had lost – lost before the battle had even begun.

Darien broke eye contact, and fingered a bronze paperweight – an eagle in flight, wings outspread. "Considering your concerns in this matter, perhaps you would feel more at ease if you confront the girl yourself, and personally escort her to the aviaries."

Nephrite's heart sunk, cursing himself for the ideals which only existed in his imagination. "I understand, your Highness."

"Clear the path between her room and the aviaries." Darien traced the eagle's neck with his finger, and carefully placed it on the knife-sharp tip of its beak. "And refer to me as Darien."

* * *

Knock. Again. And again. A soft click, the door opening. 

Serena shifted in bed, her head feeling heavy and warm, not quite awake enough to grasp what was happening. She heard soft footsteps and the rustling of fabric, and was instantly reminded of the gossiping women from days ago. Clenching her fist, she mentally shook off her fatigue, and prepared herself for the encounter.

"Excuse me, miss?" The voice was quiet, almost muted. It puzzled Serena that an adversary could be so timid. "Please miss, wake up."

When Serena didn't answer, a pair of small hands started tugging unsurely at her blankets. "Wake up miss, I beg you!"

Finding herself filled with wary curiosity at the intruder, Serena slowly opened her eyes, and met with a pair of bashful baby blue ones, which instantly brightened.

"Thank you for waking up miss." She smiled shyly, starting to help Serena out of bed. "I was so scared that you wouldn't wake up, or you wouldn't want to get up, or you wouldn't want me to help you up, or — miss, you have such lovely long hair!"

Serena could only nod in acknowledgement of her words, feeling bewildered by the girl's speech. As she was being led to a seat before the vanity table, Serena studied her carefully. Apart from the honest, sky-blue eyes, this girl had blonde hair which possibly reached her waist, considering the size of her bun. She was quite slender in build, and moved in a somewhat excited manner, though she was obviously flustered. She seemed to be around the same height as Serena, and possibly also of similar age.

"Miss? Is there something wrong?" The girl's eyes widened, her face suddenly creased with fear. "Oh please, don't send me away, miss! Please, you can do anything to me, but please don't send me—"

She silenced instantly at Serena's hushing, though her anxious eyes were begging silently. "Don't be so afraid," Serena murmured, unable to comprehend the reasons for the girl's sudden outburst. "What is your name?"

"Mina, miss," she answered hesitantly. Serena waited expectantly, but Mina looked away in shame.

"I hope I'm not being rude, but in Chiston, we usually follow our gifted name with our family name," Serena said slowly, hoping the girl would not panic once she learnt of Serena's background.

"I have none, miss." There was no fear in her voice, only a lingering sadness.

_That explains a lot._ "What are you doing here, Mina?" she asked gently, not wanting to reopen any old wounds the girl carried. Although they might have shared a different past, Serena felt a strange connection to the trembling girl – they were both devoid of their closest relations, left to fend for themselves in the cruel world.

"I'm here to serve you, miss."

"No." It was a defiant growl, sending Mina jerking away from Serena. "You do not serve anybody."

"Oh miss, please! You don't understand miss, they'll send me back if you turn me away!" Serena clenched her jaw at Mina's pitiful tone, and the desperate way she clung onto Serena's arm. "They all laugh at me for being your servant, but I don't care! You _are_ Chiston, but you are better than them, and I will serve you well! Please miss, I don't care what you do to me, but please miss, don't make me go back! You can whip me, or put me in the stocks, but please, don't send me back to the men..."

Serena had heard enough. If this was the way the disgusting Sairellens treated their own kind, then how could she expect any mercy when it came to their ancestral enemies? She had to find a way to stop the all this inhumane treatment, and perhaps, it would all begin with the acceptance of someone who was less fortunate than she.

"Of course you may remain," Serena spoke clearly, trying to maintain a friendly smile, which was threatened by the relief shining from Mina. "I'm simply a bit confused at the moment, so please excuse my behaviour."

"Oh thank you miss, thank you!"

"Please, call me Serena. You might be a maid, but I am considered the enemy of this country, and despised throughout these lands."

Mina was about to protest, but Serena shook her head, silencing her. "What are you here to do?"

"To put up missus' hair, to dress miss up, and to take care of any personal needs, miss," she replied with a curtsy. "Can we please get started?"

Two knocks on the door prevented Serena from replying, and a voice was heard from the other side. "I, Nephrite, wish to seek Lady Serena's immediate attention."

"Please, come in."

The dark general entered the room, his eyes immediately focusing on Mina. Her expression hardened, and Nephrite bowed, hoping to hide his frown. "My apologies for interrupting."

"Good morning, Nephrite." Serena started toward him, but the tall man only stepped back, lowering his eyes. Puzzled and slightly offended, she halted. "What brings you here?"

The coldness in her voice stung Nephrite, but he knew he had no choice. His Prince had issued him a command, and until the minute he decided to relinquish all that he painstakingly gained in the past decade, he had to obey like a mindless animal, blinded by loyalty. "I have been instructed to bring you a light morning meal, and an appropriate outfit to wear. I suggest you dine and dress in haste, as your presence is urgently requested."

He was vaguely aware of her nodding, of his valets who brought the food and clothing into her room at his command. He politely excused himself when Mina started helping her into the gown, and leaned heavily on the cold stone wall, letting the coolness seep through his thick navy robes. He absently studied the empty hallways, devoid of servants, of life, and felt the confusion well up inside him, as if someone was pouring mug after mug of stifling thick liquid into his empty body.

And when she declared: "I am ready" in her quiet tone and glanced at him coolly before proceeding to follow him like a mindful predator, blinded by hatred, he felt the simmering fluid instantly freeze and coat his insides into an icy cage, spreading the numbness within him.

They walked on in silence, neither speaking another word.

* * *

She stepped outside the tower, and felt the world spinning around her. It was breathtaking – the clear, vivid blue of the sky which spanned into eternity, touched by wisps of mauve-tinted hues at the horizon's east; the thousands of tiny grey stone structures stretching beneath her until they trickled out of her view; the refreshing feel of the strong autumn breeze both attacking and enveloping her; and the glorious sight of countless eagles, some soaring with inbred grace, others resting peacefully on their perches, and the few handfuls which looked at her with their intelligent, gleaming eyes. She felt her throat clutch, and yet she was still spinning, eyes alternating from darting between the scenes before her in the hopes of capturing every moment, and slowly scanning what was before her, savouring each and every detail of what was displayed. She lost all control of herself, dimly aware of moving while those wide cerulean eyes greedily drank every drop of the bittersweet blessing. 

Then she saw Darien, and the spinning stopped so suddenly that the backlash of momentum threatened to overcome her. He was looking affectionately at the fabulous creature perched on his left arm, as the wind became music to the ebony locks which danced across his eyes. His formal court attire was a deep, royal blue, tightly forming itself around the sinewy muscles that lay relaxed but just within reach. His gentle smile and appreciative gaze did not hide the savageness in his stance and the way he moved, and Serena once again found herself unsure of what to make of this handsome man.

The eagle noticed her presence and turned toward her, and Darien followed suit, leisurely shifting his body in a way that made Serena's stomach tighten. Their eyes locked and their gazes remained on one another, unsure if blatant staring was acceptable, yet both unwilling to let go.

The moment lingered, neither releasing their powerful hold, neither conceding their inevitable defeat. Her eyes feasted on him, shining intensely as she paid homage to a body worth worshipping. His eyes stripped her, darkening possessively as he made a claim to a body worth ravaging. Serena saw in those predatory sapphire orbs a promise to endless pleasure, and captured under his seductive spell, she instinctively stepped toward him, barely shortening their distance, yet issuing her unspoken invitation.

But she was too overwhelmed. Caught between the ever-changing spinning, she lost her balance, tumbling heedlessly toward the stone floor.

An eagle cried shrilly, and warm arms steadied her, embraced her, encircled her. She lifted her suddenly hot face, the heat blazing into life when she met those sapphire eyes, twinkling with amusement. He helped her up, and her hands trembled as she smoothed her dress, feeling self-conscious. Flustered, she shuffled backward and muttered her thanks, all too aware of the tingling on her arms where their skin had touched moments ago.

As he obligingly gave her the space to recover, Darien took the time to study the blonde whom he ached to hold again. She was clad in a velvet, scarlet gown, the design simple but elegant, accentuating her slender figure. It had a clean, graceful cut and a modest, rounded neckline, which showed enough creamy, flawless flesh to tantalise. The sleeves barely reached her elbows, and the dress seemed to flair subtly beneath the waistline, with the addition of numerous small vertical folds, reaching just above her ankles. Her sun-kissed tresses had been loosely pinned up, complimented by the golden threads that decorated the gown, two gleaming trails running from her shoulders down to her flat stomach, where the gold coiled itself around her small waist. Her pale skin seemed like delicate ivory in the light, but her blushing face was tinged with an equal share of embarrassment and delight.

He tried to swallow, and found it difficult to breathe.

Her heart still pounding, Serena glanced at the tall man, unsure of what to expect, of how to behave. When she saw the intense look directed at her, she felt the uncomfortable heat returning to her face, this time travelling through her body. All remaining coherent thought fled as he spoke, her eyes fixed on the sensuous movement of his lips, her ears relishing the low, smooth timbre of his voice, the texture of her name flowing off his tongue like rich, melted chocolate.

"Serena."

She closed her eyes, yearning to hear him speak again, longing to feel the unidentified warmth curl around her. As if he heard her silent pleas, there was barely a moment's pause before he spoke again, while she struggled to make sense of his words. A part of her mind registered he was giving her a brief introduction to the birds, but she allowed her senses to take over. Strangely satisfied, she allowed the silky tendrils of his voice to teasingly caress her, submitting herself to the soft wisps which tenderly travelled across her body in intricate patterns, binding her.

He halted, and sensing her inattention, raised a hand to lightly touch her arm. "Would you like to man her?"

Confused, she peered at him questioningly, itching to run a finger along the skin he had brushed.

"'Manning' is the term used when an eagle perches on one's arm," he explained, and before she could respond, he was behind her, their bodies nearly touching. His arms descended against hers in a fluid movement, pressing the leather into her unsteady hands, before they leisurely made their way to her shoulders, where they rested.

She nervously fumbled with the glove, all too aware of the way his left thumb idly stroked the base of her neck, where fabric ended and skin began; all too conscious of the way her small frame seemed to fit snugly into his large, protective limbs; all too alert of the heat that had begun to increase rapidly, climbing toward a height she dared not comprehend.

When she had finally managed to slip her right hand into the thick leather, she felt Darien moving away, and instantly resented the distance. He let out a slow succession of whistled notes, and her chest pounded when the magnificent eagle flew to his outstretched arm, landing with a rustle of feathers. Her eyes widened as he brought the intelligent beast closer to her, and she shifted backwards until she was pressed against his body.

He lowered his arm until it rested beside hers, and at the same time he dipped his lips toward her ear, fighting the urge to place them upon her exposed skin.

"Hold still," he whispered, his voice rumbling like gentle thunder. She tried not to shiver at the breaths that seared her neck, and watched in wonder as the eagle carefully stepped onto her gloved wrist. She found the bird surprisingly light considering its power, and was fascinated at the way the beady eyes studied her, as if judging her.

"Amazing," she breathed, eyes bright with unshed tears. She felt Darien's right arm sliding around her waist until his large palm settled across her stomach, holding her closer to him.

"Now raise your arm," he murmured, lips brushing her earlobe. She obeyed, stopping when her hand levelled her eyes, which were still transfixed on the bird. "Let it descend slightly, then fling it quickly toward the sky."

She obeyed, crying softly when the eagle unfolded its elegant wings and took flight, circling above them, golden feathers outstretched, releasing a cry of its own.

Still bewildered, Serena lowered her arm, unexpectedly touching Darien's hand with her own. Her breathing hitched, and she became painfully aware of how close they really were. Sensing her hesitation, Darien pressed her tighter against him, aware of her soft shudder. He could feel every ragged breath she took, could see every increased pulse on her exposed neck, could imagine the texture of her skin beneath his hands.

Ever so slowly, his lips moved toward her neck, inhaling a sweet scent that sharpened his senses. As he placed an almost phantom touch, Serena saw the accusing eyes of her family flashing through her mind.

"No!"

She twirled out of his arms, out of his reach. As their eyes locked briefly for the second time, Serena saw that beneath the promises of endless pleasure in those hungry sapphire orbs, there was only lust-driven desire.

"Don't touch me," she panted, heedless of the tremors in her voice. Gathering her skirts, she ran back inside, leaving Darien to ponder about the same desire he saw in her eyes.

* * *

Kunzite refrained from swearing as a blonde girl crashed into him, sending them both sprawling. Though visibly trembling, she picked herself up and her icy blue eyes shot him a look of utter loathing before the bundle of red and gold rushed away. 

Slightly dazed, the general stood up and brushed his clothing in disdain, continuing toward his destination. When he opened the door to his chambers, he was greeted by a blonde woman, scantily clad.

"I just met the Chiston girl," he commented as a smirk made its way onto his companion's rouged face. "She seemed to be quite distressed, so I suppose we'll have Endymion storming here in a few minutes." He cast her an approving look. "You'd better get dressed."

"Oh, but I _am_ dressed," she pouted, taking slow, calculated steps toward him. "Perhaps a bit _over_-dressed."

"Not for long," Kunzite growled and quickly turned the lock, finding the room warmer than when he had entered. She smiled and started unbuttoning his jacket, relishing the way his movements became more urgent. "I will personally see to it... Mina."

* * *

AN: Poor Serena... But she gets Darien's attention, that lucky girl! 

Anyway, I'm aware that things might seem to be going somewhat slowly, but there's just so much to explore that I don't want to rush, and end up missing any details. However, events _are_ gradually starting to pick up, so yay! If you spotted any of those themes/motifs or have anything else you want to say (especially about the yay-scene), please let me know of your thoughts in a review or email. All your opinions and comments are greatly appreciated, and thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 4

**As the Eagle Flies**

I want to thank all you lovely readers for your patience with me and the very slow progress of this story. I understand that it's been quite a long wait, and I hope that it's not entirely in vain. I will be doing my bestest best to ensure that this story will see its end.

This chapter contains two works by Callutus and Caedmon, and both are mentioned in some detail. I would also like to thank Alan for his editing skills (among other things).

* * *

Chapter 4

She was frustrated, tired, and shamed. Once again, Serena found herself lost through the mazes of corridors, trapping her from any means of escape. This was where she was most vulnerable – the silent air which screamed to the empty world of her isolation and fragility, and the unmasked truth of how dependent she was, even when it was a simple matter of getting herself from place to place. There were no maids running around, no one she could ask, and even if there were servants who shielded their eyes from her, she would not ask.

How long was this to continue for? How much longer would she have to endure the confusion, the unleashed fury, the desperation of needing to find the one person she wanted to meet?

A small feeling of guilt nudged at her. 'You're the one who is making all this so difficult for yourself. Why can you not let go of your hostility for a short period, and give these people a chance? They seem to mean you no harm.'

She clenched her fist as soon as she realised what her thoughts had meant. She would not be one to be deceived by these monsters' pretty faces!

And there was Darien. Darien, the arrogant bastard who sat waiting with a smirk behind those closed double doors. Darien, the softened fool who dreamily told her of his precious eagles. Darien, the predator who had seen into her weakness and gave her what she wanted. There was so much mystery and uncertainty around the man, Serena simply could not decide about him.

Footsteps, soft and gentle against the polished marble, echoed in the hallways, creeping through the corridors in a continuous ring that was almost comforting to Serena's ears. She closed her eyes and listened, relaxing against the walls, feeling her body growing heavier with each step. But her mind jerked and scolded, and she blinked a few times to clear the fogginess, retrieving all the wisps of stray thoughts, and sealed them away.

As the woman came into view, Serena recognised her as the dark-haired medic who tended her a few days ago, and whom she had insulted during her first encounter. She reached and grasped a name to attach to the small, delicate face with the intelligent eyes.

Amelia.

The girl's steady, confident steps altered, and she slowed until she stopped before Serena, holding a few volumes of books tightly to her chest, head raised, almost with disdain. Serena glared back at her, daring her to speak.

Moments passed, both girls issuing the silent challenge neither was willing to take.

_But unlike me, she has a purpose._

Serena wavered, and Amelia's eyes glinted before she looked away, a petulant expression on her face.

"I believe my time is wasted here," she said impatiently, starting to move away.

"On your way to join the other whores?" Serena remarked in a bored tone, though the girl's sensible attire and the thick books she carried implied otherwise.

"Such fitting taunts coming from a prisoner," retorted Amelia. "Please excuse me." Her arms shifted as she walked around Serena, uncovering the gold letterings etched into the leather of a spine.

Serena drew in a sharp breath, feeling a mixture of appreciation and apprehension well up inside her. "Catullus."

Amelia stopped in her tracks and turned to face the blonde in disbelief. "You know him?" Her tone had changed, the scorn replaced with excitement. "Are you familiar with his work?"

Serena nodded slowly, suddenly wanting to spend more time with the once cold and distant girl whose eyes were now lit with anticipation. Images from what happened earlier outside the palace filled her, and she swallowed, tenderly murmuring her next words.

"_Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris.  
Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior._"

If she was unsure of Amelia's interest before, there was no doubt now. The girl nodded slowly, a translation escaping from her lips.

"I love and I hate. Why I do so, perhaps you ask.  
I know not, but I feel it, and I am in torment."

As the last word left Amelia, Serena gave in to the invisible tugging of her lips until a soft smile graced her face. She was deeply touched at how, despite the multitudes of differences that lay between her and the girl she faced, there was in fact a common ground they stood on. It was refreshing for her to feel a kind of connection after days of being surrounded by enemies.

"I think it loses some of its raw beauty when translated..." she trailed off, leaving room for Amelia to add her own thoughts.

Amelia smiled, nodding as she spoke. "Simply because the piece only contains verbs. The active verbs 'odi', 'amo', 'faciam' and 'requiris' of the first line–"

"And the passive verbs of 'nescio', 'fieri', 'sentio', 'excrucior' from the second line," Serena finished.

"I'm impressed." The smile widened, and Amelia nodded in a way that almost seemed friendly.

As the astonishment began to wear off, Serena found her surroundings returning to her. She hesitated for a bare moment, but those few breaths of time were enough for awkwardness and formality to wrap around them again. Her desire to continue their discussion was smothered by the familiar anger and hatred, and she straightened her posture, her eyes frosting into blue ice. "I must apologise for my reaction. It merely surprised me to find that even the most merciless brutes can be educated."

Amelia tensed at the words, and met Serena's gaze steadily with her own. "Tell me, what are you trying to achieve with your mindless insults?" When Serena tried to retort, the shorter girl curtsied mockingly. "Forgive me for being unfamiliar with Chistonian courtesy."

"Forgiveness granted." Serena spoke with sarcasm as she curtsied elegantly in a graceful flourish that outshone Amelia's earlier movements. "I am only adapting to my environment."

To Serena's surprise, Amelia let out a soft sound that resembled laughter. "It seems I have far overestimated your subtlety! Do you really expect to gain anything by blatantly ridiculing everyone and everything you encounter?"

"What are you implying?" There was no sarcasm in her expression or tone now – only anger.

"You are held here as a captive." Amelia's intelligent eyes skimmed over the blonde's silk-clad figure. "Perhaps the hospitality extended to you has been extremely generous, but the fact that you are a prisoner here cannot be so easily hidden beneath silk folds."

"I am well aware of my position here."

"Then start acting like it. Stop assuming the concession already granted to you would continue with your outrageous behaviour."

"What do you know?" Serena asked softly. "Do you consider yourself as someone in the position to make such a statement? I may be excessively judgemental and prejudiced against your people – please refrain from making a patronising comment until you have undergone the same experience as I – but I do know my presence is overlooked by a high authority, one that perhaps even you can not comprehend. Which brings me to wonder if you have ever been audience to Prince Endymion himself."

The indefinite question lingered between them, and Amelia found herself shifting uncomfortably. "You are here by his orders."

"Why?"

It was the raw need and urgency behind the word that startled Amelia. She idly fingered the cover of a leather-bound book, taking comfort in the familiar roughness.

"I have already said too much. To repeat my mistakes may be fatal."

"Then why risk yourself in the first place?" Serena's tone was lighter, and her eyes were free from the usual anger. Amelia recognised the drastic change in the girl's demeanour, and felt herself relax.

"I believe in making decisions according to what I have learned through my reading. Although I am far from being a supporter of the customs and values ingrained in every Chistonian, I do respect the importance of familial relations, rendering those blood ties unbreakable and to take precedence over oneself. A particular proverb that comes to mind is 'A single member of a family eats; the whole family will not be hungry'. The bond of family being able to transcend into a metaphysical realm in a context that also referred to one of the basest needs essential for survival, is indeed something to admire."

She finished her tirade there, knowing the blonde girl would once again become detached if anything negative about her country was mentioned. It took effort for her to refrain from pointing out that the same familial obligation led to the concept of being unable to change throughout one's life, and one's background being the sole disparity to determine their position in society. Being finely attuned to the physical state of others, Amelia recognised the tense shoulders and neck that spoke volumes of the girl's emotional control, and she instantly felt a sense of pity for the girl, remembering the way Serena's eyes shone of pride and sadness when she had talked about her country. _She cannot be older than twenty._

Unwilling to break the temporary truce they had achieved with another meaningless comment, Amelia took a moment to empathise and offered, "Would you prefer if I directed you to your rooms?"

Finding no trace of sarcasm in the other girl, Serena nodded and followed the lead. Though she wondered about the location of the rooms that everyone she encountered had known, she knew better than to question.

Amelia walked toward the suite neighbouring the Prince's private chambers, occasionally pointing out landmarks and giving verbal directions, being careful not to specify their whereabouts. She noted the lack of conversation between them, and lost in her own thoughts, welcomed the silence.

* * *

Serena closed the door, glad to be alone, even for a moment. Amelia's vivid description of her people echoed in her memory, arousing images of her parents, of her brother Samuel, and of the gruesome deaths they had suffered, and of which she had witnessed.

And then she remembered the servant girl, and looked around for her, only to find herself in unfamiliar territory. Though the décor was similar, she did not recognise the long table that dominated the room. She took a few steps forward, scanning the place until she found a door.

"Mina?" she called, walking into an adjoining set of rooms that all led to a miniature hallway. Heart heavy, she walked through empty rooms until she found the room with the four-poster bed, with its folded silk sheets. She noted that the stain from the food she'd thrown yesterday had been cleaned up in her absence. Her eyes travelling upward, she noticed a mechanism that resembled a lock on the door. Quickly, she turned around to check the door she had just come from, the one adjoined to the endless sets of rooms. Her heart leapt – there was a lock there too. She quickly made work of both, and with two noiseless motions, she was safe.

Alone in the room, there was no reason to hide, no reason to remain controlled and passive and calm. No reason to stand proud on the marble ground, to shoot vehement glares at all passerbys; no reason to engage herself in endless verbal battles without knowing the rules of the game; no reason to maintain the mask of cold indifference that spoke volumes without uttering a word.

Alone in her locked prison, where the facades and pretences and words of self-defence unravelled, there was only reason to cry.

* * *

Zoisite turned toward the faint knocking of his door, which could only signify one thing. He straightened his clothes, adjusted the eyeglasses perched on his nose, and took a deep breath.

"Come in." The door opened and closed. "Lady Amelia. How wonderful to see you! You look lovely," – _and captivating_ – "as usual."

He extended a hand, gesturing at the books Amelia was holding. She carefully passed them to him, and Zoisite suppressed a wince at the sudden weight in his arms. If the small woman had found the books heavy – which his protesting arms confirmed – she certainly did not show it.

After he placed the volumes on the tidy desk, he turned toward his visitor, extending a hand again, this time for a completely different reason.

"Lady Amelia."

She gingerly reached out her own hand, drifting upon his for a hesitant second before her arm lowered, and her fingertips brushed his palm.

He always savoured those moments with her. Lowering his head, his lips gently pressed on her soft skin, lingering longer than what etiquette required, but not enough to be considered impolite.

When he met her steady gaze again with a slight warmth in his cheeks, he found that her eyes were unreadable.

"Lord Zoisite."

The impersonal, courteous way she addressed him stung. _Did you expect her to simply fly into your arms?_ Stamping down the disappointment that had so quickly replaced his excitement, Zoisite smiled and pulled out a chair for her.

When they were both seated with a glass of water on their respective sides, Zoisite reached for the topmost book on the pile, raising an eyebrow at the title.

"Would it be wrong of me to assume that this is the reason for your visit?" He smiled tenderly at her shy nod, his stomach fluttering again. "Did anything inspire this sudden onset of interest?"

"I have recently found quite a bit of appeal in a different kind of literature," she replied. Zoisite nodded, remembering how she had eyed the secluded Anglo-Saxon section in the library. "I realise these works are relatively new and have little credit, but I was compelled to try experiencing and judging for myself." She paused and her voice softened. "However, I couldn't find any material referencing these works, and I was wondering if you had any knowledge of the language."

Zoisite nodded again, marvelling at how she always went straight to the point, her manner of speech so different from the other women of court. "I have studied some Anglo-Saxon in my youth, although my mastery of the language has deteriorated ever since. Is there anything specific that you would like to know?"

"Everything." Her intelligent blue eyes gleamed with a quiet passion. "I would like to know everything."

He smiled at her response, and took a sip of water. Amelia watched him intently, noticing the darkening of his eyes that spoke of the transformation from acquaintance to mentor. "Literature, in any society, is a cultivated expression of one's feelings, and is first and foremost a language of passion, a language that has the power to evoke passion and feeling in those who are exposed to it. As with any form of artistic expression, it is defined in part by the specific values and paradigms of a particular culture, and only by understanding the societies from which particular literary work emerges, can we appreciate the responses to those pieces.

"The Anglo-Saxon language is a relatively new one with a Germanic origin, and is spoken by the tribes in the British colonies that lie far to our west. The language is rather rough and unrefined, and its poetic works emanate a sense of raw power."

He paused to take a drink, a part of him extremely pleased with the way her eyes were fixed on him, clinging onto his every word.

"I will illustrate this with the first Anglo-Saxon poem ever known to have been recorded. It was written by Caedmon, and has been known as 'Caedmon's Hymn'." He opened the thick leather cover, flipped to the first page and turned it around, passing it to her. When he made sure she was following the correct passage, Zoisite stood up from his seat. "Please excuse my mispronunciation, as it's been quite awhile since I last studied this."

Her eyes briefly scanned the unfamiliar text before fixing her attention on him.

"_Nu sculon herigean heofonrices weard,_

_meotodes meahte and his modgeþanc,_

_weorc wuldorfæder, swa he wundra gehwæs,_

_ece drihten, or onstealde._

_He ærest sceop eorðan bearnum_

_heofon to hrofe, halig scyppend;_

_þa middangeard moncynnes weard,_

_ece drihten, æfter teode_

_firum foldan, frea ælmihtig._"

Amelia slowly let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding, still hearing the echoes of the last few syllables, words that he had almost whispered. She had felt no shame sweeping her eyes over him without restraint as he delivered the recitation, but she averted his gaze now that the world seemed to be still again.

He went back to the seat, reaching for his glass of water. "A translation for the piece in the common tongue is inscribed under the original text, if you would please."

Amelia unconsciously licked her lips, and was too focused on the writing before her to notice the man stiffen. In a soft, melodious voice, she read out the lines.

"Now we must praise heaven-kingdom's Guardian,

the Measurer's might and his mind-plans,

the work of the Glory-Father,when he of wonders of every one,

eternal Lord, the beginning established.

He first created for men's sons

heaven as a roof, holy Creator;

the middle-earth mankind's Guardian,

eternal Lord, afterwards made -

for men on earth Master almighty."

"That was a sound attempt," Zoisite supplied, unsure what to make of her disappointment. "As with all literary works, a translation should only be used as a guide – it is the original that you must focus on. We shall start by looking at the meter of the text. Is there anything you can tell me about that?"

Amelia studied the hymn, vividly remembering how he had pronounced each word. "There is an irregular number of syllables throughout the entire piece."

Zoisite smiled. "Always so perceptive. Anything else?"

"There is a considerable amount of alliteration employed," the girl replied almost instantly.

"A fair observation, though it derived from my original question."

She bit her lip, trying not to let her blush show. She remained silent for a while, clenching the hand on her lap.

"Would you like me to recite it for you again?"

"No!" She startled at the urgency in her voice, not knowing if she could handle another recitation. "I think that is currently unnecessary." She focused her attention on the text before her, not allowing his presence to affect her.

But how could she simply ignore him? He was sitting right across the table, and his blue and white uniform took command of her visual field. Though her eyes desperately scanned the text before her, her mind refused to relinquish the sound of his breathing, the heat from his legs under the table, legs that were oh-so-close to hers...

"Perhaps that is enough for today." Zoisite studied the girl, uncertain. "Is there anything else on your mind?"

Though her mind protested her sudden childishness, she searched for an excuse that would explain her behaviour without arousing his suspicions. "I had an encounter with the girl earlier today."

"Her name is Serena."

She tilted her head slightly, the question in her eyes.

"Nephrite and I had a little talk last night," he replied, a finality in his voice that suggested he would not elaborate.

"Her presence has sparked some controversy within and outside the palace," she supplied.

"Where did you learn of that?" His eyes narrowed at the neutral, confident look she gave him.

"The servants talk."

"Could you possibly see to the cessation of this talk?" His was a command, cloaked within a questioning tone.

"Could you possibly inform me why such an action is necessary?" Hers was a request, hidden among the same cloth.

Their gazes held, blue against blue, neither willing to look away. Though they both knew she was obliged to obey him, Zoisite was certain he could not overcome the spark in her eyes with simple words. Frustrated, he decided to take another approach in order to break the stalemate.

"I will be leaving tomorrow for a few days."

Her surprise was momentary, and she quickly lowered her eyes before responding. "Do you have the right to be informing me about this?"

Zoisite smiled, warmth and emptiness clutching his heart. "One would suppose not."

"I understand," she nodded, standing up. She reached for her books, and was stopped when Zoisite laid his hands firmly on the stack.

"I will have them sent to your chambers, Lady Amelia."

She peered at him inquisitively, but looked away before she found her answers. "I am much obliged." Amelia made her way to the door, not waiting for him to open it. "I look forward to resuming our discussions upon your return."

She left the room before he had a chance to speak.

* * *

Zoisite slowed his white mare to an easy walk, taking the time to observe the new environment he was in. He had seen his fair share of war-torn cities, had tended to the numerous wounds of both his people and his enemies. There was nothing novel about the varying degrees of anger and grief that met his eyes, but Zoisite found himself swallowing and tightening his grip on the reins. He was not here to pity, but he was still human. Drawing back the reins, Zoisite stopped before the captain, who had lowered his head in a respectful greeting.

"Welcome to Tristone, Lord Zoisite." He held his bow then straightened, startling at seeing the general dismount. "My Lord?"

"See that my horse is tended to," Zoisite said, passing him the reins. He looked the confused man in the eye, and gave him a reassuring nod. "You have done well, Captain."

As he turned to walk away from the dumbstruck man, Zoisite allowed disgust and anger to monetarily flash across his face. He understood the captain's confusion very well. His brother, his fellow Shitennou, his prince, had always found themselves too superior and important to walk the streets on foot, had always scoffed at the thought of dirtying their shoes. He had always scorned their self-righteousness, and the captain's assumption that he was the same angered him, almost shamed him.

Too immersed in his unexpected fury, he found he had stormed off in the most convenient direction, and was now surrounded by people whose expressions far surpassed his own. His hand instinctively moved to his sword, and he fixed his gaze on a tall young man who he instantly determined as a threat. No one moved, but he could feel their stares trying to tear him, accusing him of having ripped their lives apart.

The raven-haired man spoke, almost startling him. "We are unarmed and defeated," he said quietly in a soft, calm voice, a voice which seemed to unnerve him more than it should, "and yet you still appear to be afraid. I wonder why that is."

Zoisite shifted his position as neutrally as he could, and removed his right hand from his sword, though the thumb of his left rested on the hilt. "A man is wise to be cautious when his feet are not firmly planted on the grounds of his land."

"But this land belongs to you now, does it not?" The man spoke with the same calmness, though there was a hint of a sneer.

"The land belongs to its people," Zoisite replied carefully, hoping that his Prince would never hear these words that bordered treason.

"This land's people does not want the likes of you tainting it," he said softly. Before Zoisite had a chance to move, he held up his hand. "Yet we have no choice, and will submit ourselves to you. We will co-operate."

Zoisite narrowed his eyes at the admission. He knew the antagonism that existed between the two countries, and was wary of the man's words.

As if sensing his uncertainty, the man spoke again. "I am Seiya. These people will listen to me." He paused to ensure Zoisite had understood his authority. "You have questions, and I have answers. But before I give them to you, you must give my people food, water, and a physician's care." It was not a request, but a demand, and Zoisite knew that his best choice would be to give in to them. It didn't mean he had to like it.

"Very well. I shall see to it being done." He briefly wondered whether Seiya would provide those answers now, but the reserved look he gave him smothered that thought. "And I will speak to you personally, Seiya."

The man gave a curt nod, and Zoisite turned toward their station, one hand still clasped around his sheathed sword.

* * *

It took her a few moments for her whereabouts to sink in when she woke up. Although Serena had found herself staring at the same ceiling, asking the same questions for almost a week, she savoured the precious seconds of believing all she had been through was only a part of her imagination. Her father would have reprimanded those thoughts and accused her of running away from reality, but Serena selfishly held onto the fantasy that slipped away with increasing speed as another day passed. Savouring these moments she had to herself, Serena lay under the soft, warm covers and absently ran her thumb across her fingers, finding comfort in the slight ache from the healing wounds.

She tensed at the shuffling of feet against the carpet, and knew she could no longer be alone.

"Is the Missus awake?" Serena raised her head to the soft voice, and saw Mina standing by the door. "I have brought your morning tea."

Serena sat up, ignoring the slight discomfort at being in such a state of undress. Though she was almost completely covered, Serena felt the distinction between her nightgown and the maid's layers of formal dress. "I appreciate it, Mina."

The servant curtsied and left the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Serena felt a slight pang at how they effortlessly entered into this routine, and wondered if it was an indication of some kind of unspoken truce.

Shrugging off her thoughts, Serena got out of the bed and concentrated on getting herself dressed. She discarded the nightgown, and reached out for the light blue dress that was laid out for her. Slipping into the soft fabric, Serena frowned at the lack of petticoats required for the ensemble, leaving her feeling exposed and naked with her chemise. Ever since she was a child, Serena remembered being clad in layers upon layers of fine cloth that distinguished her from those around her. Women who were underdressed were servants or maids; women who were underdressed in lavish materials were whores.

Serena let out a quick sigh, almost a smirk, as she tied the last of her dress. All the women in this country dressed like whores.

She tried not to inhale the still-exotic scent of the food, and tried to swallow down her anticipation for the meal. Mina was waiting patiently by the sandalwood table, watching Serena attentively as she left the bedroom.

When Serena had seated herself, Mina brought forth another silver tray lined with silver pots and cups.

"Miss, would you like to try some coffee with your meal this morning?"

Serena gave the girl a blank look. "Excuse me?"

The maid set the tray down on the table, and poured some dark brown liquid into a cup. Serena immediately noticed a rich aroma from the beverage, though she could not identify it. "This drink is made from coffee beans, miss. It's rather strong for your first time, so I will add some milk for you."

Serena nodded, watching as the other girl poured some milk from another small jug into the cup. She swirled the drink with a silver teaspoon, then lifted the sauce and cup for Serena to take.

"Please be careful, miss; it's still rather hot."

Serena took the cup, and aware of the other girl's eyes on her, she brought the cup to her lips and took a small sip, the liquid hot against her mouth but not enough to burn her tongue. The flavour was thick and complex, something that Serena could not identify, but was a blend of bitter and sweet that she found herself taking a liking to. The more sips she took, the more she could taste all the subtle tones of something that she had thought was simply rich only moments ago.

She set down her cup when it had become half-empty, and knew from the way Mina watched her that the approval was evident in her features and actions. Without another word, Serena picked up her fork and ate her morning meal in silence, the maid standing beside her the entire time. Several times Serena thought of speaking, but the other girl's stillness deterred her from attempting. She did not entirely understand Mina's actions, and for some reason, she found herself wanting to question and address the situation. There was much about the servant that she wanted to find out.

The moment she finished swallowing the last mouthful and put her fork down, Serena felt Mina ready to spring into action to wordlessly clear the table. Before the maid could move, Serena held up her hand in a silent command to remain still.

"I am in no disillusion as to my place here," Serena said, turning her body so she looked into the other girl's startled eyes. "Perhaps your place here is strictly as a serving-girl, and your position gives you no concession to your behaviour." She felt foolish, saying these words when she was in such a position herself, but they tumbled out before she could stop them. "But I care not for such positions. We are both women, who breathe the same air and walk on the same ground. There is no need for further distinctions."

Serena stood up and made work of arranging the tableware, realising that she had just accepted Mina as another equal, completely disregarding the vast differences in their blood. She silently cursed her vulnerability, and attributed it to her encounter she had with Amelia the day before.

Mina's quiet voice stopped her thoughts. "There is always a distinction, miss. A servant is born of a servant, a prince of a king. That is why we have people who rule, and people who obey. It is what makes the world go around, miss, and no bit of wishful thinking can change that."

Mina took Serena's moment of silence to reclaim the trays, and promptly went to work. Serena watched the girl closely, realising that there was more to the blonde than the nervous girl who introduced herself. What kind of person was she before she was brought to the palace? What kind of people had she served before she was assigned to a prisoner chained by silk sheets?

She knew it would be useless to ask these questions aloud, for the other girl would simply retreat and refuse to answer. Instead, Serena asked the girl a question that was equally likely to be met with silence.

"Mina, what do you wish for?"

Mina looked up from her work, and for the first time, Serena saw both the strength and fragility that ran deep in the other girl, untouched by her current situation.

"What every other person wants," Mina replied with resolution. "To be happy, and to be loved."

* * *

Zoisite waited patiently in front of Darien, who sat behind his desk, poised with a quill. The general had been admitted by the Prince, only to find that he was busily attending to his own thoughts. One look at Darien's calculated expression was enough to prevent Zoisite from disturbing him, and the general had remained standing passively, waiting for his orders.

"How do you fancy a ball?" Darien asked, startling Zoisite with the abruptness of the question.

"A ball would be lovely," Zoisite replied, trying not to stumble over his words. "Your Highness might benefit from such an exercise."

"While the rest of my people remain unclear as to the future of their land." The Prince did not look up, and continued writing. "Perhaps you might benefit most from the exercise, as it has been awhile since you have last danced with Lady Amelia, if memory serves me right."

Zoisite remained silent, knowing he was simply another pawn in the Prince's games.

"Kunzite's response was infinitely more satisfactory than yours," Darien continued, eyes still fixed on the parchment before him. "He expressed his eagerness to step into the ballroom again, and was most helpful in offering ideas for the event. A celebration of the capture of our enemy's strongest fortress, a flourish of song and dance in the midst of war. Are you ready to play dress up, Lord Zoisite?"

"Pardon my ignorance, your Highness, but what does this 'dressing up' entail?"

Darien spared Zoisite a glance. "Is it to be a masquerade ball, my Lord Zoisite. We cannot allow our little guest see Prince Endymion unmasked now, can we?"

Zoisite bowed and lowered his head at his mistake. "My apologies, your Highness."

The Prince drew out a long sigh. "Your stoic manner never ceases to extinguish any inclination toward festivities. I take it you had a somewhat difficult time in Tristone?"

Zoisite took a step toward Darien, and waited for the small nod that indicated he was permitted to speak.

"There was no trouble at all, your Highness."

Darien placed his quill in its holder and turned his attention to the general. "And?"

"Although there were many casualties in the city, Tristone's resources are plentiful. We have acquired these following specifics, which I have recorded." Zoisite withdrew the rolled parchment, and gave it to the Prince. He watched the concentration on Darien's face as he scanned the contents, and wondered how the Prince would react to the other pieces of information which was perhaps even more valuable.

"You have done as I asked," Darien said, as much of a compliment as he would ever give. "Do you have anything else to report?"

Zoisite bowed and straightened, preparing himself to finally deliver the words he had rehearsed for the past few days.

"I have been informed by a young man who is currently acting as a leader to his people, about the situation of Tristone before we had captured it. There have always been disagreements between the different classes in the city, which has led to severe amounts of tension since the war began. It seems as if the peasants would be willing to abandon their loyalties to Chiston and Diamond, and come to the aid of Sairelle. The artisans and merchants have divided loyalties, but are willing to support the side that would financially benefit them."

"Are you telling me that the people of Tristone are willing to co-operate with us and betray their own country?"

"Tristone, and the majority of peasants in Chiston."

Darien let out a soft smirk, almost surprising Zoisite with the lack of reaction.

"And why is this, my Shitennou?" The Prince's voice was a murmur, almost a caress. "What has their nobility done to forsake them?"

Zoisite refrained from swallowing, though his mouth was dry. "Their king is apparently ruthless and self-indulgent, and all those in his command stand in the shadows of his cruelty. He starves the people with overwhelming taxes, and pleases himself with countless women, disregarding the consequences of his actions. He has been advised to take a lawful wife among the nobility, and produce a legal heir to inherit his position. To the anger of those in Tristone, he had chosen the only daughter of late Baron Angelline, a lady half Diamond's age who was on friendly terms with the people due to her supposed charms. However, Serenity Angelline has disappeared since we captured Tristone, and her body has not yet been found. Although this grieves the commoners, they find comfort in knowing her fate will not be at the mercy of their tyrannical king."

"That is quite a detailed account. Who was the young man?"

"His name is Seiya, a jewel-crafter by profession. He also claims to be Serenity Angelline's lover."

"I see." Darien's mind lingered on the statement, and he tucked it away to be analysed in private. Instead he studied Zoisite, noting the stains on his clothes and the weariness in his stance. "Is there anything else?"

"Only a question, your Highness."

Darien narrowed his eyes. "It would be wise to assume that I did not know the answer than to ask me the question."

The general bowed in response, finding his answer in the evasion. When he straightened, Darien had picked up his quill and was writing again. Zoisite bowed again to acknowledge the dismissal, and exited the room.

When Darien had finished writing, he laid down his quill and stared at the black ink, waiting for it dry. He skimmed through the letter he had written to King Diamond of Chiston and stared at the last line. And smiled.

'I have your betrothed.'

* * *

AN: Thank you very much for reading, and should you have any comments, I would love to hear them! I'll do my best to get the next chapter out within the next few weeks!


	6. Chapter 5

**As the Eagle Flies**

As promised, here is the next chapter! I hope the wait hasn't been too long. Please enjoy!

Many thanks to Alan, and to Tuesdays.

* * *

Chapter 5

When Zoisite had taken a bath, changed his clothes and finally made his way to the room where his fellow Shitennou were, they had started without him. The gatherings they had were informal meetings, and due to the differing duties each general had, the places by the table were not always filled. Zoisite glanced at the empty chair closest to the window, and thought back to the days when it was occupied, completing the table of five. With a small shake of his head, Zoisite dismissed his thoughts and poured himself some water, settling into his seat. Nephrite and Kunzite were well into a game of chess, and a quick look told Zoisite that Kunzite had the advantage.

Jadeite studied his brother for a moment before speaking. "All went well?"

"They did indeed," Zoisite replied without hesitation. It was understood between the four men that there was little they could speak about when it came to matters their Prince had discussed in private, and that curiosity was to be replaced with restraint and feigned ignorance. No specifics were ever revealed, and what little shared knowledge they had was disclosed in Darien's presence, or by Darien himself. "And yourself?"

"All has been well." Jadeite's tone implied otherwise, and Zoisite saw that his brother was referring to progress in the war. Jadeite's personal life, however, was another matter.

"Did anything happen?" Zoisite asked. His gentle tone caused Jadeite to frown, and Zoisite immediately recognised his brother's discomfort. "Is all well with Lady Rachael?"

The two other men kept playing, but all were focused on Jadeite.

"It's nothing really," was the reply. _Nothing I want to talk about._

"Every man has his strengths and weaknesses," Kunzite said mildly as he moved his white knight to capture a black bishop, "and your temper can be seen as both."

Jadeite gritted his teeth, silently cursing the easy manner in which Kunzite spoke. The men knew him well, knew his limits and exactly how far they could go without breaching that limit.

"Rachael has been rather... difficult lately," Jadeite said slowly, averting the eyes of the other men. "More difficult than usual."

Zoisite nodded his understanding and sympathy for his brother. Lady Rachael was one of the most beautiful women in court, and also one with the most fluctuating of temperaments. The courting between Jadeite and Rachael had been a long and intricate one, made even more complicated by their Prince's brief interest in the girl a few month's prior. The men all knew that Jadeite was intent on keeping her, but one could never be too sure when it came to the fiery lady herself.

"What happened this time?" Kunzite's gaze never left the chessboard, but his attention was completely on the blonde general.

"I have given her too many liberties, that she has forgotten her place. She has been demanding more time to herself, on the pretext that she feels 'suffocated by my affection'. God knows what she can do with that time... Embroidery? Practise an instrument? We all know she has little interest in those things!"

"Maybe she's taken up a new hobby," Nephrite offered. He moved his own knight out of harm's way, and leaned back into his seat. "You should know these tendencies of hers by now."

"There's more you haven't told." Kunzite put forth his knight to capture the king. "Check."

Jadeite shifted in his seat, unsure whether he should divulge the rest. Anything to do with the Prince was a matter of the state, and none of that could be disclosed in private. And yet, this dilemma was a personal one, one that his comrades, as fellow men, would offer assistance with, assistance he felt he needed.

He treaded carefully. "It is to my knowledge that a ball will be taking place tomorrow evening." The other men stilled, and to Jadeite's relief, did not find the news surprising. "Lady Rachael, of course, wishes to attend."

"A perfectly acceptable declaration, considering the nature of the event," said Kunzite. "Mina has expressed similar desires, along with the disappointment of being unable to make an appearance due to prior engagements."

Zoisite's thoughts on the progress of the Prince's planning came to a halt. Mina, absent from a ball? From the tone and look in Kunzite's eyes, he knew better than to ask.

"The problem, however," Jadeite continued, "is that she wishes to attend as her 'own person', as she so eloquently put herself."

The room was silent. What Rachael had requested, though very characteristic of her, was far beyond her rights. If such a demand was made to the Prince, the consequences would have been dire.

Jadeite shook his head, fists clenched. "She thinks she can get away with so much just because she's given the Prince a favour or two. Now that he has his attention on the Chistonian girl, Rachael's jealousy and impertinence have increased tenfold."

No one dared to speak. Jadeite was a Shitennou, a comrade, a friend, and above all, human. The slips on his temper, on protocol, would be overlooked, and the words he uttered in contempt would never leave the room.

"What was your response?" Kunzite asked, gaze intently on Jadeite, who had now regained his composure and was looking uncomfortable. "How did you answer her?"

"I said that if she went as her 'own person', then she might as well be declaring herself available to the entire court, which was possibly the main reason behind her requests, at which point she decided to terminate our discussion by leaving the room."

"Have you spoken to her since?" Kunzite asked, though the answer was obvious.

"I have not seen her since. We had the disagreement this morning."

"So you mean to tell me," the leader of the Shitennou said, clearly unimpressed, "that Lady Rachael in all her displeasure and questionable sensibilities, has been running loose for the entire day? Lord Jadeite, you need to tighten your leash on your woman."

The blonde's eyes flashed. "As far as Lady Rachael herself is concerned, she is not my woman."

"As far as the Prince is concerned, she is." Kunzite's tone softened. "And as far as you are concerned."

Jadeite's anger seemed to vanish after his friend's words, and he was momentarily lost in his own thoughts and the mixture of emotions he was experiencing. He felt regret at not having approached his argument with Rachael in a more effective manner, frustration at not being able to and not knowing how, appreciation for the understanding the rest of the Shitennou had for his situation, and the encouragement he was receiving from their presence. He looked at the three men in turn, and felt unable to verbally express any of those sentiments; instead, he hardened his jaw and brought forth one of the other topics that was collectively on their minds.

"If only those damn Chistonians ceased their fruitless struggles and gave in. It's not like they have much to offer."

The atmosphere once again changed, this time coloured by the generals in their disagreement.

Zoisite spoke first, clearly offended by his brother's callous words. "They have a lot to offer. You forget that their land and its people are infused with a history and culture that differs greatly from our own, and must be treated with respect."

"Says one who spends more time with his books than his friends," Jadeite replied, his anger rising once again, this time at the younger man's haughtiness. "If you had stood on the battlefield longer, you would see that they are no more than a bunch of savages who do not know their place."

"Ah yes, of course," Nephrite said, surprising the two men with his easy manner. "Those who decide to charge into the homes of others while fully armoured and equipped, with every intention to destroy and conquer, are benefiting from an entirely noble cause."

Kunzite looked at Nephrite from across their game, expression neutral. "You are forgetting your place here, Lord Nephrite."

The warning was understood and dismissed. "I am simply reporting what I have seen, what I have done. Does telling the truth warrant my punishment?" He stretched, and looked at his pieces on the board, seeing too quickly that there was no hope left for his black pieces. In a slow, calculated movement, the general set his king down in an admission of defeat. "You win again, Lord Kunzite."

"There is a far more difficult game at play here," the leader of the Shitennou said, directing his words to all the men in the room. "And far more is at stake."

Nephrite let out a small sound that was almost a laugh. "Don't use my blatant displeasure as an excuse to lecture us on what we already know. If this continues, you will become another incarnation of our lovely Prince." He did not flinch when the other general stood up in anger, knocking the chess pieces onto the marbled floor. "That was not particularly considerate of you; I am sure Zoisite would have appreciated a look at our game."

"You have overstepped your boundaries," Kunzite said in a tone that would make a lesser man cower. "You are a Shitennou; act like one."

Nephrite got up from his seat too, this time discarding the light demeanour. "_You_ are the one who should re-evaluate his position." He looked from Kunzite to the other two men, and shook his head. "All this secrecy, all these words and sentiments we are forbidden to express. You speak of being a Shitennou, but you forget what we stand for. 'The Four Heavenly Kings' gain the utmost respect from all in Sairelle, not simply because we are warriors and leaders, but because we are united. Because once upon a time, we knew one another, and accepted one another..."

Nephrite paused, and his shoulders suddenly sagged. All his confidence disappeared, and he looked down, realising how his words could be so easily ridiculed by the other men.

A light touch on his arm brought him to the attention of Zoisite, who was looking at him with understanding in his eyes. "That has not changed. Perhaps we have changed as people, but our knowledge, our acceptance of one another, have remained the same." Zoisite withdrew his hand, and took in a long breath. "Our responsibilities have also changed, Nephrite. We were once companions and advisors of Endymion, each of us standing at a fixed point of the compass to protect what was at the centre. Now our roles have differed; but we still stand firmly on those four corners, and we still serve the same purpose."

"Do you really think that, Zoisite?" Nephrite understood what the other man was trying to say, but found he had stopped believing in their cause. "Deceiving, defiling, killing, all 'in the name of our Prince'; when did we stop being individuals respected by our friend, and started to mindlessly obey obscure orders we are not allowed to question?"

"When Endymion grew up," Jadeite said, after a moment of silence. "When the rest of us grew up, and had duties to fulfil not only to ourselves, but to our country. We have no choice."

"That is where you are wrong; we _always_ have a choice," said the leader of the Shitennou. Kunzite's earlier anger toward Nephrite had dissipated, replaced with an intent observation. "Nephrite is right. Our purposes, our intentions, our very selves have changed into something that we neither like nor approve of. Yet we still assemble in this very room, and meet as often as time allows. That, in itself, speaks loudest about the choices we have made." He studied the other generals, then uttered the words Nephrite could not voice. "You miss having him with us, in this room, in our chess games, in the fencing spars we used to have in the courtyards. You miss your teacher in the arts, your student on the horse, your Prince who you saw as a friend. And what you failed to notice in the rumination of your own unhappy situation Nephrite, was that we all suffer the same loss you do. We all long to have Darien back among us."

And having the words spill over like a calculated tipping of a glass of water, the Shitennou looked at the only empty chair in the room and knew they had nothing more to say.

* * *

She knew that she was treading on thin ice, that she would have to face the unpleasant consequences if her presence was known and deemed unwelcome, but she paid no heed to her reasoning, and allowed her instinct to take her through the corridors of the Prince's private chambers. Rachael was a woman who was hardly ever in doubt of what she wanted; and when she wanted something, it did not take much for her to attain it. She had been gifted with an exotic and beautiful face, with her soft skin, high cheekbones, a nose that seemed too delicate to touch, large dark brown eyes both terrifying and alluring, and cascades of thick black hair that captured the light and made it its own.

But her face had been as much a curse as a gift. As her childish body made its transition into that of a woman's, the men around her suddenly sharpened their interest in her, forcing her into the precarious game of courtship when she was barely thirteen. Her father, an ambitious member of the gentry whose estate was far from the capital, was more than eager to submit his only child to the greedy lords who eyed her as another object. It did not take long before her father received an offer of marriage from a man twice her age who held high prospects and was in favour with the royal family – seeing a use for his daughter who was weak compensation for the lack of a son, Rachael's father immediately accepted the offer, effectively trading his kin for gold rings and silver-coated words.

A week before their wedding was to take place, the lord made an unannounced visit to his future bride, and found, to his utter fury, that she was galloping on a horse beside a male companion, her dress coated in several layers of mud. The encounter shattered the image of the demure, educated lady he had expected from the well-cultivated face, and he demanded from Rachael a display of song or dance for his entertainment. Having never been one interested in the arts, her performance was barely passable. Completely deterred by her lack of finesse, the lord left without a word, and never returned.

For weeks afterwards, her father would shout abuse at the girl-woman, blaming her for their loss. Her mother, although sympathetic, knew her place in the household and kept her thoughts to herself. When her father realised that the cancelling of the engagement had in fact increased his daughter's number of suitors, his anger faded and he busily sought information on the men. Afraid that the incident with Rachael's first betrothal would repeat itself, he employed the finest tutors he could afford to ensure his daughter's marriageability would become even higher. To his surprise and delight, his daughter did not rebel against this as much as she did as a child, and instead took her studies seriously, spending hours indoors developing the skills she had once lacked. The reins of her horse were replaced by the keys of a pianoforte, her bow and arrow with needle and thread. His father expressed his approval, but Rachael heard none of his words.

The girl had known that she was a pawn in his father's plan, an irreplaceable piece that had its special set of uses. She had neither liked nor disliked the attention, treating the words and gifts of her suitors with indifference; but not once in her life had she been looked upon with the disgust and superiority that the lord cast on her that day. Her confidence fell, her pride shattered, and her childish ignorance hardened into awareness and resolution. She understood the extent of her beauty, and she used it as a weapon, a means to get what she wanted. And what she wanted was not the sons of rich merchants, nor counts with well-endowed land. She set her goals higher than her own father, and aimed for the most powerful men in Sairelle.

And she got there. Stopping before the elegantly carved door, Rachael felt the same apprehension and excitement as the first time she was admitted by Prince Endymion himself. The months that followed were an indistinguishable blend of victory, relief, passion, and the occasional twinge of disappointment. After the initial sense of accomplishment faded into dull smugness, Rachael started to question her place in the palace, her place in the Prince's bed. She could not discern what she felt when the Prince decided he had had enough of Rachael's temperament and dismissed her. Her pride in pieces again and unable to return home, Rachael was at a loss with what to do when Jadeite, one of the famed Shitennou, expressed an interest in her and proceeded to keep her.

Months had passed since the incident, and Rachael still did not know where she stood. She knew, more than anyone else, how much affection Jadeite held for her, but she could not determine the nature of her own feelings; instead of dealing with her own frustration, she continuously lashed out at him, leaving them both confused and angry. The ache and emptiness grew and spread with each passing day, despite her attempts to chain her emotions to her body.

Long minutes had passed since she had arrived in the corridors housing the room that gave birth to that pain, and as if her body suddenly recognised the familiar marble she was standing on, the tears streamed down her porcelain face, falling one after another to join those silent longings and dreams that had long dried and disappeared.

A soft click, a wisp of wind, and Rachael lifted her head, finding herself lost in a pair of cerulean eyes that bore into her, observing, judging. She tried to breathe and found her nose wet, tried to swallow and found her mouth dry. For a moment Rachael found herself pleading for understanding from this woman she had met only once, hoping that she could be forever captured in the heartbeat where she shed all masks and stood bare before another person, a breathing being who could see in her the fragility she saw in the mirror everyday. But the moment passed and her own vision cleared to see the unfamiliar face carved with familiar indifference.

"I would invite you in," the blonde said slowly, "but I am not in a situation to properly receive my guests."

Rachael hardened, hearing the sarcasm and blame in the other woman's voice. She was about to make a biting retort and walk away when she saw the flash of uncertainty as Serena lowered her eyes.

The words left her mouth before she could react. "I believe you are the guest here," Rachael said, challenging the blonde with red eyelids and wet lashes. She tried not to let her desperation show, tried to stifle the pleading words that required no speaking, and felt a strange sense of relief when Serena saw what Rachael had tried to hide. The blonde broke eye contact and opened the door wider. Unsure of exactly what to do, Rachael stepped into the room that was once hers.

The décor, the furniture were still the same, but Rachael found herself displaced, almost intruding. She kept her gaze focused on one thing, and soon found the small shelf that contained the jars of tea leaves. A quick glance at Serena told her the woman was watching her intensely but passively, and feeling slightly more in control of her feelings, Rachael pulled a cord, ringing for a maid. The two women waited in silence, and when the young servant entered the room, Rachael gave succinct instructions for some refreshments to be brought. The girl disappeared with a curtsy, and returned with a tray of pastries and silverware. Rachael thanked and dismissed her, and promptly went to add the tea leaves into the hot water. When it was ready, she poured the tea into the two cups, and gestured for Serena to take a seat at the table; she complied without a word, and they both sipped their tea, waiting for the other to speak.

"You should try one of these," Rachael said, serving an apple Danish. She picked a piece for herself and brought it halfway to her lips before setting it down again. "You must be finding this entire situation extremely amusing," she said, this time in a bitter tone. "Though I assure you, I did not come here for your pity—"

"No," the girl interrupted. "Not at all." There was no trace of sarcasm in Serena's voice, no hidden feelings in her stern expression. All Rachael could see in those cerulean eyes was a pool of understanding, patience, and the stillness of anger. Those eyes had seen Rachael, stripped bare of all protection, and although the mask was back on, Serena had enough of a glimpse to be able to see past the façade. Knowing she had nowhere to hide, and finding a strange sense of relief in being able to speak her mind, with no embellishments, no circumlocution, Rachael held her head high, and spoke again.

"What would you do if you found yourself in a position that contests everything you have ever believed in?" The question was sincere, and Rachael saw that it took Serena by surprise. From the defiant look the other woman had, Rachael could almost hear her saying that she would never be foolish enough to fall into such a predicament in the first place, but Rachael found that she was not surprised when Serena quietly answered, "I do not know."

The silence between them turned from a threatening chasm that stood between two women challenging one another, to a soft invitation for the other to speak. Rachael briefly thought of how, at a later stage, she might regret having revealed so much to this stranger, but there was no turning back from the cool encouragement.

"I am mistress to a man whom I have come to appreciate more than I could have thought possible," she said, noting the flash of indignation from Serena as she recalled the man in question. "I find that the more I come to understand him, the less I know of myself."

"And what do you understand about him?" The question was said in the same neutral tone, but Rachael could feel the undercurrent of anger and hatred emanating from Serena.

"He is not as sure as he appears to be."

"Tell me, what uncertainties and crises did he face when he looked my family in the eye and decided his sword required the acquaintance of their flesh?"

Rachael knew she could stop their conversation here and prevent them from entering the battle she had set before them, but something in her wanted to reach out to the woman in front of her in the same withdrawn, almost cruel, way that Serena had extended only moments ago.

"There were none." The step onto the battlefield had been taken. "He killed them because he was instructed, and without a second thought."

"The insight into the mindless nature of your people is highly appreciated."

Rachael chose her words carefully. "I am not here to defend him, nor will I fabricate lies to appease you. To do so would be an insult to you."

"Then why kill innocent women and children?"

She hesitated. "I do not know. Perhaps they were in the way, perhaps—"

"You are insulting me at this very moment."

Rachael stopped herself, realising the truth of what the woman had just said. By searching for a justification for Jadeite's actions, Rachael had just done what she plainly stated she would not. Feeling ashamed of her actions, she lowered her head. "I apologise."

"I care not for the man whose side you have chosen to take," Serena said, her words an arrow that pierced the centre. "Where you feel affection, I hold the strongest loathing and contempt; your words will not redeem his actions. If I had a weapon within my reach, I would not hesitate to show him the same courtesy he has shown me." Rachael instinctively looked down to Serena's hands, and saw that her pastry was untouched, her tea cold. A smile wove its way through the blonde's lips. "Rest assured: I am not going to waste my time devising ways to rid you from this world, when there is no easy solution at hand."

There was no deception, no elegant words to paint her hatred into something beautiful. Rachael felt her panic dissipate – the woman was honest and sincere, her anger justified. What kind of person had she been before she was thrust so carelessly in the middle of this war?

"I do not know you beyond your name, your status, and the obvious disdain you hold for those you choose not to respect." At Serena's words, Rachael remembered the brief exchange between them when they first met. "I care not to find out more. The reasons behind your presence here is a business I care not for. But if you decide you wish to speak and to practise your grasp of the common language, then I have no power to hold you back from your tirades."

Rachael softened, understanding how much effort it required for the woman to have said what she did. They both shared the same pride, the same stubbornness, and Rachael knew Serena was extending a compassion that was undeserved. For the first time in her life, Rachael felt that she had found someone with whom she could be herself, someone who would not curb themselves to spare her feelings. The rift would always lie between them – the actions of Jadeite and her people could not be undone – but it was perhaps the very same enmity that allowed them to strip down to the core. And the newfound connection with a person several leagues outside her consideration led Rachael to realise that her own pride and self-sufficiency had removed from her sight the larger painting, the frame of which had been increased beyond her visual field.

"Very well." Rachael reached for the pot of water, pouring the hot liquid into Serena's teacup. "I shall keep your generous offer in mind." As she refilled her own teacup, Rachael thought back to how petty and immature her rationale had been that morning, and how much her perspective had changed upon stepping into the room. She had twisted Jadeite's feelings and thrown them back at him in a convoluted mess, too unsure to confront him in the way she wanted. She picked up her apple Danish, and waited for Serena to do the same. "They may have lost some of their warmth, but the taste and texture remain intact. Please, try one."

The blonde brought the pastry to her lips, and paused.

"Lady Rachael." The name was said softly, and like the sound, her next words remained with Rachael long after they were uttered. "You understand yourself better than you care to admit. You are simply too afraid to accept that your feelings for him have changed your beliefs."

* * *

Serena had barely crossed the room to take a seat when a knock sounded, almost startling her. Despite the conversation she had just held with Rachael, Serena was not ready to hold another audience with the woman again. She needed some time to settle her own thoughts.

There were two more taps on the door, this time in quicker succession than the first. She took a deep breath and made her way across the room, expecting to see Rachael's elegant features. Instead, she was met with an ocean of sapphire, its currents raging just beneath the surface.

It was Darien.

The memories of his hands, his touch, his warmth, coursed through her like liquid fire, and Serena took a step back, silently refusing to take the same tumble she did last time. She ignored the hurt that spread across his face, and still unsatisfied with their proximity, took yet another step back.

"Are you feeling unwell?"

Serena shook her head at the concern in his voice, and they both knew his question would remain unanswered.

"Why are you here?"

Whatever reason he had was pushed back beyond its conception, into oblivion. Her accusing eyes left him no room for weak excuses, and Darien knew he had only a few moments to deliver his words before she decided to shut him out. She was determined not to let her guard down a second time.

Accepting the distance she had placed between them, Darien straightened his stance. His instant transformation to formality left Serena with a strange ache in her chest, and she could once again feel his breath on her neck.

"I am here on behalf of his Highness Prince Endymion." The unexpected words left his tongue and found its way to Serena's heart, teasing her to take action. She clenched her jaw; she would _not_ ask.

And yet he saw the questions, hearing them as clearly as if she had whispered them into his ear. "He has returned to the palace, and is kind enough to extend an invitation to you in person." She glanced at his hands to see if he carried anything, and saw that they were gloved, empty.

"Am I granted an audience with this Prince of yours?" she asked, hope rising to her throat.

"Yes."

The triumph was intoxicating. For days she had been stifled, curbing her tongue, waiting for the moment when she could finally meet the Prince who was the sole cause for so much pain to so many people.

And destroy him.

"His Royal Highness Prince Endymion has cordially invited Lady Serenity Angelline to dine and dance in celebration of the recent conquest of Tristone, a city that now belongs to the country of Sairelle."

The disappointment, the fury, crashed into her like a horse in full gallop. She struggled to stay on her feet as the implications of his words crashed through her, leaving her torn and bleeding. The Prince knew who she was, and exercised no restraint in displaying his own triumph; she had lost.

But she would not be defeated. She would be in a room full of countless stares, but she would approach him, confront him, measure him up close. Serena planted her feet firmly on the ground, and looked Darien squarely in the eyes. She would not be intimidated this time.

"When is this event to be held?"

She tried the hide her satisfaction at Darien's slight hesitation, knowing that her reaction did not follow his expectations. "After the next sun sets. A gown deemed appropriate for your wear, selected by his Highness himself, will be sent to you in the morning. You are expected to remain in your room to undergo preparations, and will later be escorted to the grand hall."

Serena let out a small laugh at his words, but there was no joy in the sound. "Please relay my gratitude to your Prince for his consideration in making such arrangements."

Darien bowed in acknowledgement. When he straightened, Serena knew he had more to say. And from the apologies and regrets swimming in those enthralling sapphire eyes, she knew he resented his position as much as she did.

"It is to be a masquerade ball."

* * *

AN: The next chapter should be very interesting, and again, please expect to find it in the next couple of weeks. All reviews are read and appreciated, so please drop one in! Thank you for reading. :)


	7. Chapter 6

**As the Eagle Flies**

This chapter's a bit short, as I decided to leave one of the scenes for the next chapter. It also contains some explicit references—excerpts from John Cleland's _Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure (Fanny Hill)_—so please ensure that you're mature enough to read it. I hope you'll enjoy the chapter!

* * *

Chapter 6

When the blonde general returned to his chambers, he did not expect the sight of Rachael, spread out before the fire, a book in hand. So absorbed in her reading, she had not noticed him enter their room, and as she flipped a page, followed by a small toss of her head, Jadeite took the opportunity to study her.

She was a beautiful, delicate creature, her skin soft and glowing against the flame. She wore a simple cream dress, and from the way she supported herself with her elbows, her legs making an occasional dip toward the carpet, it was obvious she paid little heed to her outfit. Her expression was one of relaxed concentration, and Jadeite's attempts to recall the same look on her face from another time were met with the realisation that he had never seen her like this before.

Another small tilt of her head to the opposite page brought her eyes into his view, and Jadeite found his heart speeding up at the intensity of her gaze. What had captured his attention when he was first introduced to his Prince's new mistress was the passion that burned beneath those dark brown eyes, a fire that man alone could not extinguish. From his distance, he had paid close attention and marvelled at its blaze time after time; even after she had been dismissed by the Prince, Rachael's eyes never dimmed once. Jadeite thought back to this morning, to their heated argument, and recalled the way her furious eyes never left his. She had taunted him with her words, but it was the intense anger and blame that scorched him.

Freeing himself from his thoughts, Jadeite took a few steps towards her, his feet falling with just enough sound to announce his presence. Her shoulders tensed but she kept reading, and Jadeite continued his journey across the room, every step a heavy beat of his heart. He crouched down next to her just as she finished the page she was on, and his eyes had barely adjusted to the low light illuminating the words when she turned to look at him.

"Good evening," she said in a half whisper, her voice polite, almost distant, adding to his uneasiness. Jadeite tried to put as much warmth in his own response as he could, but it soundly equally distant.

"Good evening, Lady Rachael. Am I interrupting your solitude?" Before he could stop himself, he added, "I thought you might have retired to your own room."

He tried not to wince at the glare she shot him, and was in the midst of cursing the well-formed thoughts that had fled as soon as he caught sight of her when she rolled slightly to her side, facing him.

"I did not know you had such scandalous reading material in your possession," she said, gesturing to the cover of the book. He could not remember which of the Shitennou it was that lent him _Fanny Hill_, but the topic of introducing banned books to his personal library must be brought up at their next meeting. He had heard plenty of recounts and descriptions about this particular book, but being one who cared not for reading, Jadeite had never experienced its contents for himself. The glint in Rachael's eyes told him that was soon to be remedied, and the dread welling up in his stomach was accompanied by arousal.

She gave him a lingering look that made his breath hitch, and began to read in her low, smooth voice. " 'I, struggling faintly, could not help feeling what I could not grasp, a column of the whitest ivory, beautifully streaked with blue veins, and carrying, fully uncapped, a head of the liveliest vermilion:' "—the teasing pause did not help his rapidly beating heart—" 'no horn could be harder or stiffer; yet no velvet more smooth or delicious to the touch. Presently he guided my hand lower, to that part in which nature and pleasure keep their stores in concert,' "—he kept perfectly still, afraid that the smallest movement would betray his discomfort and sudden warmth—" 'so aptly fastened and hung on to the root of their first instrument and minister, that not improperly he might be styled their purse-bearer too: there he made me feel distinctly, through their soft cover, the contents, a pair of roundish balls, that seemed to play within, and elude all pressure but the tenderest, from without.

" 'But now this visit of my soft warm hand in those so sensible parts' "—his heart skipped a beat—" 'had put every thing into such ungovernable fury that, disdaining all further preluding, and taking advantage of my commodious posture, he made the storm fall where I scarce patiently expected, and where he was sure to lay it: presently, then, I felt the stiff insertion' "—the heat was almost intolerable—" 'between the yielding, divided lips of the wound, now open for life; where the narrowness no longer put me to intolerable pain, and afforded my lover no more difficulty than what heightened his pleasure,' "—his head was swimming, yet she was perfectly in focus, so close he could just lift his hand—" 'in the strict embrace of that tender, warm sheath, round the instrument it was so delicately adjusted to, and which, now cased home, so gorged me with pleasure that it perfectly suffocated me and took away my breath; then the killing thrusts! the unnumbered kisses!' "

She stopped, and looked at him, burning him from under those dark eyelashes.

"My Lord Jadeite, I believe your lack of a response to be most disappointing." He knew she had seen his passionate pleas, barely restrained, but Rachael brushed a stray hair away from her face, and said, "A pity, really. I suppose I shall stop being such a bore, and continue my reading in silence."

He reached out a hand to stop her. "Why are you here, Rachael?" His fingers rested on her shoulder, her skin cool to his touch. Jadeite felt her shudder, but she did not draw away.

"I must admit, I envy Fanny very much indeed; it was extraordinarily fortunate of her to fall into bed with the one she loved." Jadeite had heard enough about the protagonist's various adventures to know what she was referring to, but he was lost as to what she meant. "Perhaps I would not be in such a predicament as I am in now, had my initial experiences been different."

The conviction of her words, coupled with the uncertainty of her look, was enough for Jadeite to know what she was referring to. All these months, they had never mentioned the Prince, except in passing. He had occupied her attention when she needed a diversion, left her to her own devices when she needed solitude, never questioning her requests and demands. Seeing her wavering determination now, Jadeite was not so sure whether he was ready to hear what she had to say.

"Do I not satisfy you?" he asked, the words pathetic to his own ears; he hastily added: "I have not yet gained the ability to distinguish between your most accomplished play-acting and your other qualities."

He instantly regretted his words, as the shock flashed across her face. Silently cursing his jealousy and rage, Jadeite searched desperately for a way to redeem himself.

"You have misinterpreted my intentions," she said before he could speak, her quiet voice so unlike her usual fierce declarations. She hesitated, and his heart flew out to her. He took one of her hands in silent apology and encouragement, his attention on her. Always on her.

She opened her mouth to speak again, and this time, he listened to all she had wanted to say but could not. All her loneliness, her uncertainty, her animosity towards the father who had both raised and forsaken her, was a current that no force could stop when its course was set. She spoke of her childhood, amazing him with her courage; she spoke of her own sense of victory when she captured the Prince's attention with her vivacity on the archery field, and the indignant self-righteousness when he claimed her body; she spoke of the helplessness when she started to lose all the excuses she had clung to in order to justify her actions; and finally, when the river of raw emotions was nearing its end, the passion shone in her eyes s she spoke of her initial quest for vengeance, her indifference to Jadeite growing into affection, then frustration and anger, and now, acceptance. Her tirade seemed to be at its end, but she was not finished—she blamed her own pride and conceit with such vehemence and self-depreciation to her own person, Jadeite could not bear to hear any more, and silenced her mid-sentence, beckoning her to him. She compiled, moulding into his embrace as he murmured her name over and over, against the crackling of the fire that lent its warmth to the mending hearts.

They held each other as their breathing slowed, the significance of her confession settling in with them. Her words rang clearly in his mind, and Jadeite allowed her pain to wash over him, embracing the throbbing with a fierceness that sprung from his clarity. There would always be misunderstandings, and the old wounds would reopen with the reminder that came with a new cut, but there was now, the moment they were truly equals, and Jadeite cherished that with all his might.

Long after the trembling hand subsided, Jadeite withdrew from Rachael and lifted her chin, losing himself in those beautiful, dark eyes. His fingertips travelled along her face, marvelling at the warmth that radiated from her smoothly sculptured features. He saw, for the first time, the love she held for him – a love that Jadeite, in his insecurity and unspoken rivalry with his Prince, had overlooked; a love that was reflected in his own eyes, brimming with unshed tears.

A love he gave without restraint, received without another thought.

* * *

Kunzite gave himself one last inspection in the looking-glass, making sure his appearance was pristine, not a hair out of place. He was clad in a light grey ensemble whose fine material shone silver in the light, contrasting against his dark features. His mask for the evening, in the simple shape of a horse, was carelessly held between his fingers. Although he knew the importance of wearing the appropriate attire according to the occasion, Kunzite was never one who enjoyed frivolously dressing for social gatherings. To him, the mask was as much a symbol as the Shitennou ring he wore—an adornment, a fulfilment of his duties.

Finding no need for adjustment, Kunzite stepped out of his private chambers and started making his way toward the grand hall, where all the most lavish and declarative of events were held. He spared a small thought to Mina, but it lasted no more than a moment—just as he, she was obliged to attend to her own duties, even if they robbed her of her favourite pastimes. He slipped on his mask. Objective, collected, and always in control, Kunzite, leader of the Shitennou, was a force upon himself.

The grand hall, in all its scale and grandeur, received neither praise nor attention from Kunzite. He stepped through the elevated stone archways without so much a blink, his eyes scanning the room for threats that may present themselves through the course of the evening. As lively and flamboyant as the balls the Prince held could become, he knew they were simply another set of pieces the Prince played in his games—the dresses were well-oiled armour, the masks sheathed swords. The flavour and taste was different, but at the core of these gatherings, it was a battlefield, wrapped by layers of silk and lace.

And as with every important battle, the generals who controlled and oversaw the field attended without fail. Kunzite was one of the first notable figures to arrive, and with his entrance, a small portion of the nobility also trickled in, brightly dressed ducks in a pond. The members of the sizable music ensemble had gathered and struck up a soft, lively tune that invited some of the more enthusiastic attendees to move into the centre of the hall and fall into step with the strings and winds. He remained away from the trivialities of dancing, and kept his attention sharp and focused on what was important.

He spotted Zoisite before the first dance ended. The younger general saw Kunzite at precisely the same moment, and they exchanged nods before moving towards each other. Dressed in an immaculate fashion, Zoisite wore a cream ensemble that was exquisite yet modest. Like Kunzite, Zoisite's mask depicted features of a horse, the light colours blending with his silvery hair.

"Lord Kunzite," he said, offering a bow now that they were in closer proximity. "It is quite a pleasure to see a friendly face through these numberless unknowns."

Kunzite returned the bow, but with much less severity. "Perhaps you should revise your attitude," he responded, "if you are to last the evening."

The two men smiled to themselves, and Kunzite felt himself relax in familiar company. "My application of such advice at the last ball," Zoisite said, "led some members of the fairer sex to believe I was available to be approached."

"My apologies for causing such discomfort on your part," Kunzite replied, his lips still curled upwards. "May I be bold enough to make yet another suggestion, one that may prove to act in your favour in this particular instance?"

"Please do. I am always open to your wisdom."

"Perhaps you should draw upon the experience of your previous unfortunate situations, and consider ensuring that the bolder members of your female acquaintance come to an appropriate understanding of your availability, by procuring yourself a companion suitable to your tastes and intellects."

He saw from the slight stiffening that Zoisite was uncomfortable to the idea. Fully aware that now was neither the time nor place to discuss such matters, Kunzite sought a different topic to discuss.

"Perhaps you are correct in your assessments." Zoisite's words surprised the older general, as did the determination of his exclamation. "Would you be so kind as to provide me with further assistance in this matter?"

Kunzite thought for a moment, and scanned the room, seeing how quickly the room was filled with lavishly dressed men and women. He knew about most of the people who attended the ball, had indirectly dealt with about half of them, but had only spoken to a few handfuls. Anyone he approached would be honoured and slightly elevated by the interaction, and he did not want to give significance to those who would exploit and triumph from it. He also regarded Zoisite's feelings—it was evident to the Shitennou that he was rather smitten by Lady Amelia—and knew that the chosen companion, however temporary she may be, must not form any expectations from Zoisite. She would be a conversation partner, perhaps even a dancing partner, but the correspondence would end there.

His gaze landed on a tall brunette whose green dress highly complemented her curves. Behind the dazzling peacock mask, Kunzite recognised the lady as Countess Carmella de Allisa, a wealthy and steadfast woman with whom he had spoken to in earnest once or twice. A highly opinionated and outspoken woman, she would surely provide some companionship for Zoisite for the duration of the evening.

"I have sighted an acquaintance of mine," Kunzite said, noting Zoisite's tenseness. "Rest assured, she is unlike most of the other wolves who are eyeing and circling around the uninvolved—and involved—males who are attending tonight."

Zoisite gave his nod of consent, and fell into step with Kunzite as they approached the Countess. She was speaking to an older Baron when she noticed their presence, and stopped mid-sentence to gather her skirts and lower herself in an graceful curtsy. The men bowed in response, and Kunzite took a small step towards her.

"Countess Carmella, it is a pleasure to see you this evening." He gave a sideway glance to her conversation partner. "Baron."

The Baron gave a respectful bow, and having not been addressed to directly, knew that his presence was unwelcome. He politely excused himself, and went to join some of his other acquaintances.

"I am surprised and honoured that you managed to recognise me through my efforts to remain inconspicuous, Lord Kunzite." Her voice was smooth and mellow, and Kunzite felt the younger general relax.

"I must dash those hopes, Countess, for your extraordinary height is likely to foil any disguise. Furthermore, I must say that these elaborate feathers do more to attract than divert attention." They laughed quietly, the sounds warm and pleasant. Kunzite stepped aside, bringing Zoisite to her full view. "Allow me to introduce my fellow Shitennou: Lord Zoisite, Chief Medic and Second in Command of the Fifth Army. Lord Zoisite, Countess Carmella de Allisa, who prefers to be referred to as Lita."

"Lord Zoisite."

"Lady Lita."

They exchanged preliminary greetings before falling into comfortable conversation about their recent choice of reading. Zoisite had heard of this Countess before, one of the few female members of the nobility who found no need to take a husband, and he was curious as to her character. However, etiquette demanded neither approached the other until a time when they were both formally introduced by a mutual acquaintance. There was no romantic interest in either parties, but enough common interests—Kunzite had carried out his job well.

He excused himself from the conversation, as he saw the entrance of another fellow comrade, this time with a Phoenix on his arm. Jadeite was dressed in black, a powerful stallion who galloped at midnight. Lady Rachael's crimson ensemble was fire in Jadeite's night, her stunning mask flaming below the candlelit chandeliers. Kunzite could not help the grin on his face—not only were they together; they were positively delighted to be with each other.

They exchanged the customary greetings, and Kunzite complimented Rachael on her choice of costume. Knowing the men would want to converse among themselves, Rachael found herself another small group she could join and drew herself away from Jadeite, though it was obvious both mourned the immediate loss. Jadeite's gaze lingered on Rachael long after she had left, and it was the clearing of Kunzite's throat that led him back to his friend.

"It seems you and Lady Rachael have reached a new understanding." Under the light of Jadeite's smile, Kunzite's words seemed unnecessary.

"Indeed we have."

The leader of the Shitennou smiled, and took his friend's hand. "I am glad to hear of it." Seeing the unequivocal joy in Jadeite's demeanour was enough for Kunzite. Inwardly, he was amused at how rapidly and drastically the favours had turned on Jadeite, but there was really nothing he could expect from the fiery, passionate blonde before him.

A man's business was his own, and Kunzite respected his friend's privacy. That did not stop Jadeite from speaking again, the shine never leaving his eyes. "I honestly did not expect circumstances to have changed as such, especially after the disagreement we had yesterday. I did not know how to convey to the Lady what needed to be expressed, but instead, she was the one who sought me out, rather unexpectedly, though it was the most pleasant of surprises."

Kunzite nodded, now understanding why the blonde general was disclosing such matters. "I suppose this is not particularly characteristic of Lady Rachael?"

"Not at all. I am rather curious as to the reason behind her sudden change of heart."

Kunzite thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I have nothing that may be of assistance."

Jadeite sighed. "She is not one to make such decisions without cause, and confronting me was perhaps one of the most difficult tasks she has carried out in her life. And it is not as if I have not been giving her enough time and space for her rumination..."

"You suspect she may have received some sort of external encouragement?"

"Yes. But the question is: who?"

Both men knew Rachael had no close friends in the palace—her sharp tongue and quick temper had made sure of that—and her dilemma was not one to be easily disclosed. Who indeed?

Their thoughts were interrupted when they were joined by Nephrite, who was one of the last people to arrive, and who immediately went to his comrades. He was dressed as a handsome brown horse, his wild mane of dark hair flowing behind the mask.

"I never tire of the horse theme," he said, once the greetings were carried out. "It makes me feel at ease, knowing I can theoretically take my leave at any given time, with great flourish and whinnying. I am also extremely grateful for the privileges we carry as Shitennou—do you really want to picture Viscount Dalaro and his overwrought goods as a proudly standing stallion?"

"A perpetually panting gelding would be a more accurate description," Kunzite said mildly.

Nephrite snorted, then laughed at the sound. "I feel quite the inclination to gallop around the hall. My fellow Shitennou?"

"Perhaps if I were astride a horse," replied Kunzite. He looked at the fine china and silver lined on the tables. "And perhaps if the hall was empty."

Jadeite was close to volunteering himself to be subjected to public ridicule out of sheer ecstasy for his current situation, but stopped when he considered his Lady's reaction. He doubted she would want to share his wildness and likeliness to a horse beyond their bedroom.

Nephrite saw the hesitation in his blonde friend, and did not miss a beat. "It would certainly be an experience, my Lord Jadeite. Hurry, let us execute our grand plan before our authority can be questioned!"

"Too late." The musicians stopped playing, and shuffled in their seats before starting the march that marked the entrance of the Prince. Jadeite placed an apologetic hand on Nephrite's shoulder. "Perhaps we should plan ahead of time for the next ball."

The occupants of the grand hall stepped to the side, one by one lowering themselves before their liege. Prince Endymion wore tights stitched with bronze, a shirt imbued with silver, and a tunic of black and gold. There was no need for a crown, as the golden eagle mask he wore gave him an aura of power, invoking awe and fear in all those who looked upon him. His ebony hair was windswept, his clothing slightly tousled, but he stood out among the sea of mediocrity and dullness. Half human, half feral, the Prince of Sairelle surveyed his people as the last chord was played, and the musicians rose to their feet, bowing with their instruments still in hand. No one dared breathe into the silence.

He held out his hands, a graceful movement that was as natural as his breathing. "My beloved guests." His voice was rich and cultured, reverberating throughout the hall. "Why are you not dancing?"

The moment of confusion was quickly overcome by the shaking hands of the lead violinist, who came to his wits and struck the ensemble into a lively waltz, the wind section slightly out of time. The men and women hurried with their partners to the centre of the hall, and started moving with the music, though they were not relaxed, but alert.

A few of the bolder nobility started resuming their conversations, and the hum of talk gradually returned. Satisfied with this seamless transformation, Endymion sought out his men, who were now lined and waiting for him.

"Your Highness." The Shitennou bowed, straightening at the flick of a wrist.

"I thank you for your attendance this evening, and I apologise for the short notice." The Prince was neither appreciative nor apologetic. He directed his cool gaze at Kunzite. "I have business to attend to. Do try to enjoy the evening."

The message understood, the generals bowed and dispersed, leaving Kunzite with the Prince. They had taken no more than three steps before Endymion spoke again.

"Lord Nephrite. I do believe Lady Amelia is currently standing unaccompanied in the opposite direction, donning a very modest dolphin mask. Perhaps striking a conversation with her would be beneficial to your dulling wits."

The general acknowledged the command with the control years of training had developed. "I thank you for your kind concern, Your Highness." When the Prince's attention left him, Nephrite sent a silent look of apology to Zoisite, who forgave with a nod.

Endymion turned his attention to the leader of the generals, who followed him into a less occupied area of the hall that was reserved for them. The Prince stopped and looked around their surroundings, as if in search for someone, before he once again regarded Kunzite.

"Are the plans intact?"

Kunzite nodded, and drew out his pocket watch. "She should be here very soon."

"Good." The Prince curled his lips, a smile that never reached his eyes. "You have done very well, Lord Kunzite."

The compliment meant very little, but Kunzite accepted it with graciousness. "Is there anything else you require of me, Your Highness?"

"You must be quick on your toes, when the time is appropriate." The instructions were vague, but Kunzite knew he would understand at the right moment. "I have given instructions to my valet, but your assistance may be required. I have also cleared the corridors, but they must remain empty. Let Zoisite do it."

Kunzite bowed to his Prince. "It shall be done."

Endymion was quiet for a few moments. When he spoke again, it was in cruel amusement. "I believe you have your suspicions, Lord Kunzite. Perhaps you may entertain me by sharing your thoughts."

"As you wish, Your Highness." Kunzite knew the Prince well—he was too trusted, too involved, to be harmed in expressing the opinions his liege had ordered to be declared. Keeping his voice low and discreet, Kunzite voiced his speculations, keeping his words objective and concise.

The Prince laughed, a warm sound that echoed through the hall. "I applaud you!" He brought his gloved hands together again and again, making a sound that was almost lost in the room. "The extent of your imagination is most praised!" Endymion lowered his hands, effortlessly settling back into his composure. "Your mind is free to run wild, as long as hers is curbed. I do not want her asking questions that can lead her to the right answers."

A sudden dying and swelling of sound accompanied Endymion as he finished his sentence. The Prince was always the last to arrive at a ball, and the occupants of the hall broke into curious and scornful whispers as their attention fell on the latecomer who stood alone under the towering archway.

"Ah, our guest of honour has arrived! Please, let us make her feel welcome in our company." At Endymion's words, the crowd once again drew to the sides of the spacious room. The Prince made his way to the entrance, arms outstretched. "You are most lovely this evening. Please, make yourself at home."

There were a few moments of silence, an exchange between the two, and though Kunzite could not see, he dared not move. The only words were spoken in silence, in the heartbeats when their eyes locked; and then matching footsteps were heard, the two walking into the hall.

At first, Kunzite did not recognise the woman for who she was. He had not seen her long enough to leave an impression, and her facial features were hidden by silver, but Kunzite had expected a quieter, meeker figure, not someone who held themselves with pride and confidence, one gloved hand lightly on Endymion's. He had thought his grey costume shone finely under the light, but she was light itself. The pale low-cut dress that flowed to the floor, trailing slightly behind her, shimmered with the most delicate needlework. The magnificent swan mask did nothing to hide her golden hair, curled and piled on her head. Kunzite did not remember her as beautiful, but he would not forget this exquisite creature before him. She dazzled as much as the Prince intimidated, and the two commanded the room with their mere presence.

"Noble citizens of Sairelle, I ask for your attention. Many of you are aware that not more than a week ago, our royal armies marched into Tristone, the fortress city of Chiston—and emerged victorious." He lifted the hand that was joined with the girl's, his voice twice its volume. "This is the proof of our victory!"

The people cheered, laughing when she jerked her hand back, body tense with hatred.

"As you can see, I am not yet adept at training my women." More laughter, more hatred. "Allow me to present to you our very own prize, Lady Serenity Angelline of Chiston!" Applause, excited murmurs. A dramatic look of horror upon the Prince. "Pardon me for being rude enough to suggest Chiston will not soon be a part of Sairelle!"

The laughter grew again, this time silenced by the two loud claps from the Prince. Dozens of servants filed into the room, placing plates upon plates of food on the long dining tables.

"Tonight, we celebrate our victory, and the victories that are sure to come. My honoured ladies and gentlemen, you shall feast tonight!"

Full of gaiety and high spirits, the nobility of Sairelle made their way to the tables, giving Kunzite the opportunity to step towards the two, unnoticed. Endymion had turned to her, and spoke in a voice so soft that only Kunzite heard the words. A voice beautiful and terrifying, caressing and commanding, sensuous and sadistic. Piano and forte.

"And this time, I am the inviter."

* * *

AN: And so the ending here finally bears resemblance to the Prologue, and the next chapters are also going to be full of fun. :) It has been brought to my attention that my updates are taking too long (I'm currently posting every 2-3 weeks), so I will try to make them every 1-2 weeks. I hope that's okay with you guys, and thanks again for being so patient. Reviews of all kinds are well-loved, so please let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 7

**As the Eagle Flies**

Hi everyone, hope you've all been doing well lately! I had lots of fun writing this chapter, and it contains another one of my favourite scenes from this story, so I hope you'll enjoy it too!

* * *

Chapter 7

She sat at the Prince's table along with the Shitennou and the company they kept. She was close enough to hear him speak, but his words were just beyond her reach. She had no appetite, nor any intention to provide entertainment for those sitting around her, but pride kept her back straight and her silverware used. She would not have them believe she was affected by their laughter, by the cause of this 'celebration'.

But she could not take her eyes away from the Prince. He had echoed words that she heard that night in Tristone, so long ago, when she was saved from Jadeite's cruelty. She smiled bitterly to herself. Saved, or held captive?

The words of the woman sitting to her left interrupted her thoughts. Keeping the Prince in her peripheral vision, Serena shifted her gaze to the green eyes behind the peacock mask.

"Would you like some pepper?"

Slightly irritated, Serena glanced at the jars of spices that lay slightly to her right. "Would you like to mother whoever is sitting on your other side?" Serena replied.

There was a look of surprise, before the woman laughed, eliciting chuckles from those nearby who had paid attention to the exchange.

"That has been one of the most refreshing remarks I have heard at the dinner table," the woman said, eyes glowing. "What I said earlier is a phrase we use in Sairelle when the speaker is politely requesting something to her addressee. Please excuse my rudeness in assuming you were aware of such conventions."

She had spoken in such a warm and light-hearted manner without a trace of contempt or sarcasm that Serena could only reach for the pepper wordlessly, passing it to the woman, who received it with gratitude.

Jadeite, sitting across Serena and to the right, put down his fork and wiped his mouth. "Lady Lita, I believe you are wasting your time and energy in explaining the subtleties of our civilised society to one who clearly can not appreciate it."

Serena was about to reply in kind when Rachael, sitting to her right, set down her own fork with a decisive clang.

"My Lord Jadeite," she said, her voice like silk, "I believe _you_ are wasting your time and energy in attempting to provoke the lovely Lady Serena into engaging in a conversation that we can not appreciate. May I suggest you revise the basic etiquette that is required at the dinner table?"

Serena did not have time to decide whether Rachael's brazen defence or Jadeite's stunned expression was more unexpected, for those in their vicinity had once again burst into laughter.

"I must commend you, Lady Rachael, as that was most excellently executed," Lita said. "Lord Jadeite, it seems you have more on your plate than you had bargained for."

Jadeite seemed to catch up on the humour of the situation, though a mixture of puzzlement and slight betrayal was still written on his face. "I would not ask for anything less," he said, all smiles and charms, before muttering, "I would not dare."

The group laughed again, and Serena took her time to study those who sat around her. To her left was the woman called Lita, and even if she had not seen her fiery eyes, Serena knew the boldly dressed woman to her right was Rachael, though her elegance and composure was vastly different compared to the last time they had met. Across from Rachael sat Jadeite, whose attention was now solely fixed on his phoenix. Serena was sitting directly across a woman dressed in blue with a dolphin's mask, whom she identified as Amelia. Serena's gaze shifted to the left, and she was met with the gentle smile and the mane of brown hair that could only belong to Nephrite. A bit past Nephrite was a man dressed as a white horse that she did not recognise but assumed to be the last of the Four Heavenly Kings; the cream horse that sat opposite the unidentified general was Zoisite. And beyond them sat the Prince, the golden eagle presiding over the table.

"I do not think I have introduced myself," the peacock named Lita said, surprising Serena. "I was given the name Carmella at birth, but have been always called Lita to distinguish myself from my mother, who shared my name."

The table was suddenly silent again, and Serena could feel Endymion's eyes on her. This time, Nephrite broke the silence.

"Lady Serenity Angelline, allow me to introduce to you Countess Carmella de Allisa."

Lita shook her head, clearly unimpressed. "You do not need to overwhelm the lady with such unnecessary customs," she said, her voice sharp. She turned to Serena. "There is a meaningless social rule that is enacted upon in court, where one is not to speak nor approach another member of the court unless they have been formerly introduced by a mutual acquaintance."

Nephrite said: "Countess, please keep mind those in your presence when you speak" at the same time Lita said: "Lord Nephrite, you forget that you have violated such protocol, as we have not yet been introduced."

No one dared to speak, for centuries of tradition had just suffered one of its rare public criticisms. All depended on Endymion's opinions; and the Prince laughed.

"This is most entertaining," he said, his smile reaching Serena but not his eyes. "Lord Nephrite, I believe you have been defeated in this instance. Your punishment is to take Lady Serenity as your first dancing partner when our meal is finished."

He then turned to Lita. "Countess, perhaps such definitions as 'meaningless' should only be determined by one who has the authority. I understand that you are wealthy and hold high regard among your acquaintances, but please remember your place. For your punishment, you are to be taken as Lord Nephrite's second dancing partner."

They both nodded and acknowledged the public humiliation without complaint, leaving Serena seething. The words left her before she could control herself.

"And what may my punishment be, Your Highness, for instigating such a disagreement between your most loyal and loving people?"

The Prince laughed again, but the sound was cruel, heard before a predator destroyed their prey. "You second task, after Lord Nephrite has been chastised by your sharp tongue, will be to dance with me."

Still smiling, Endymion picked up his knife and fork and resumed eating as if he had never spoken. He turned to Kunzite and made a comment, and the two were quickly involved in their conversation. The humming of those sitting at other tables in the large hall soon drowned out the initial silence caused by the commotion at the Prince's table.

Serena was surprised when Lita cast her a sheepish grin, an expression that was so out of place with her surroundings. "It looks like I have gotten both of us into quite a bit of trouble," the woman said, clearly apologetic. "I hope you will forgive the consequences of my brashness."

"There is no need to take credit for my own actions," Serena replied, "for I have proven to be equally adept at procuring punishment for myself."

The two pairs of eyes met, and both women saw the strength and humour behind the other's well-decorated masks. They smiled to themselves at this mutual understanding, and though Serena was still wary of the countless eyes that stared at her, she found herself warming to Lita's good nature.

"Lady Serenity—may I call you Serena?" At the nod, Lita continued. "I understand your first introduction to Sairelle has been rather unsettling, but have you had an opportunity to see some of the finer parts of our country?"

"I have not," was the reply. "And I must admit, I have never considered such an activity."

Lita nodded, and Serena knew she had understood. "I am terribly sorry for your loss. I do not know what you have suffered, nor of the circumstances under which you have arrived, but I hope there is something I can do to alleviate some of your pain."

Serena was speechless, and Nephrite, the only one who had been listening to them speak, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The woman was so sincere, so willing to promptly and directly address the tensions between them, so unlike all the other people she had dealt with since she was captured. The intelligence in her green eyes told Serena that she was not being callous, and Serena found comfort in the bluntness of her words. There were no lies, no sick sweetening, only brutal honesty.

"I thank you for your concern," Serena replied, her voice lowered, "but your words alone cannot heal these scars that your fellow citizens and your liege have inflicted."

Lita nodded, her eyes sad. "Perhaps actions might prove to be a healing ointment, however weak. Lady Serena, would you be so kind as to oblige me to call upon you sometime next week? I am sure there are plenty of activities we can consider, if you are so inclined." She instantly turned to look across the table. "Lord Nephrite, could you perhaps see that this may be accomplished?"

Nephrite glanced around him, making sure no one else had heard Lita's request, and answered carefully. "I cannot promise you anything, but I will try." His manner was as easy and pleasant as Serena had remembered, and despite herself, she began to feel a tinge of excitement at the prospect of spending a day with the lady beside her.

Lita must have noticed Serena's reaction, however mild, and questioned: "Do you hold any interest in any particular activities, Lady Serena?"

If she was addressed by another person at another time, Serena would not have answered. Even now, she kept her tone neutral, and only listed those common interests held by many people she knew. "I enjoy riding, and reading is one of my favourite pastimes."

"That is lovely!" Lita seemed positively delighted. "I have quite a bit of wilderness that is a part of my estate, and several strong horses that would love to stretch their legs. Lord Nephrite, you are also welcome to join, if your schedule permits."

"That would be wonderful," Serena said; and she meant it. She had always loved the feeling of the wind against her and the movement of the powerful muscles beneath her when she was on a horse, and her recent confinement had led her to crave that sort of freedom. To be able to gallop across the lands, her companions just within reach... Her pleasure quickly disappeared as she realised that opportunity might never be given, for her captors would be right if they suspected she would try to escape on horseback.

But the glittering in Lita's eyes told her otherwise, and gave Serena a reason to hope. It was a strange, warm feeling that went as quickly as it came, for Endymion had now risen to his feet, commanding the attention of his guests.

"Ladies and gentleman," he said, "I thank you once again for being such delightful company at my dinner tables tonight! I hope you have all feasted to your heart's content!" Quiet applause. "It is now time for us to proceed to the highly anticipated entertainment of this evening: I invite you to rise to your feet, and make good use of them in dancing!" The people moved as one, Serena slightly behind.

"Although it is customary that the Prince is to start the dancing," he continued, "I will defy tradition tonight, by announcing the pair who will inspire us all with their skill and enthusiasm: Lord Nephrite, and our honorary guest, Lady Serenity!"

The polite applause was coupled with whispering, and Serena felt her cheeks redden at having once again been singled out and ridiculed by the Prince. Nephrite moved towards the centre of the room that had been cleared for the specific purpose of dancing, and Serena followed, determined to maintain her composure. Although she usually enjoyed dancing, Serena did not know whether the music or steps here differed to what she was brought up with, and she desperately hoped Nephrite was skilled in leading.

Her uneasiness faded when Nephrite took her gloved hand in his, and whispered so softly that she was sure only they could hear. "Just trust me and follow me." He held his right hand up, palm facing her, and Serena followed suit with her left hand, until their palms were touching. She relaxed, knowing at least some of the basics were familiar, and held her head high as she waited for the music to begin.

She saw a movement in the corner of her eyes before the music started, and Serena found the notes to be unfamiliar. Nephrite, however, was moving in steps that she did know, and she tried to adjust to the music as she kept her attention focused on what her partner was doing. She did not notice another pair had joined the floor until the flash of red passed her, and she saw the elegant, sharp movements of Rachael. Many other people followed suit, until the floor was full of people, the sound of shoes on marble loud enough to match the musicians.

"Remind me to thank Rachael and Jadeite the next time I see them," Nephrite said, his lips barely moving. "Not only does the Prince traditionally initiate the dancing at every ball, but the dance between him and his chosen partner are usually solitary performances that last until the first dance is finished. Rachael and Jadeite have taken a huge liberty to break such rules by daring to join in the first dance. The rest of these people must have found that enough of an encouragement to start dancing themselves, although I have a feeling Endymion had expected other results."

Serena took some time to digest his words, her concentration still on the music and the steps, though Nephrite's easy manner had helped her relax. "How long do these usually last?"

"A dance takes about five minutes, but the night will continue indefinitely, long past midnight." He flashed a smile at her. "You are doing very well."

"Thank you. I know similar steps, but the changes tend to throw me off." She stumbled, a movement that would have been obvious if it wasn't for Nephrite's slight twist and quick improvisation. "Perhaps we should be concentrating rather than conversing."

"That would be such a bore! Please, do continue to enlighten me with your words. I have sorely missed your wit and humour in the past few days."

His brown eyes were sincere, and Serena once again found herself comfortable in his presence. Perhaps it was his easy disposition, perhaps it was their shallow comradeship stemming from being the Prince's targets, perhaps it was the naturalness in his movements that bordered on familiarity. The dancing pairs around them were similarly occupying themselves, and Serena saw no harm in continuing.

"In Chiston, we do not speak when we are dancing," she said. "Although I doubt you are interested in hearing about our ways."

"Quite the contrary," Nephrite replied. "I have never experienced anything outside of Sairelle, and I am rather interested in how these things work in other countries. Do you often hold balls such as these?"

"Once every now and then. Our attire is a lot more conservative, and not so flamboyant."

Nephrite laughed, a sound that warmed her. "Most of the nobility here attempt to assert their standing and fine tastes by attending in the most extravagant and finely made costumes you can imagine. The Shitennou, however, always dress in a predetermined theme."

"It all seems rather frivolous and pointless to me," Serena said, glad to see from the grin that he was not offended.

"I agree with you. However, a little bit of fun every now and then has its merits." There was a slight pause as Serena missed a step, and Nephrite helped her return to the music. "Speaking of having fun, what are your thoughts on Lady Lita's generous offers?"

She hesitated, but he waited patiently, guiding her through the music until she was ready to reply. "The notion is very tempting. She appears to be very different from the rest of the people I have met."

"She is. I have heard a great deal about her, and she is infamous for her immovable stance in certain situations."

"Such as?"

"Her refusal to marry. Her parents died when she was young, and she was the sole heir to their estates."

"Women are given rights to estates and titles without a male benefactor in this country?" The surprise was evident, and Nephrite let out a chuckle.

"I suppose you have never heard of such a thing in Chiston. There are quite a few rules and laws in Sairelle that make it difficult, but the Countess has always been strong in her opinions and actions."

"That is remarkable..." How did the woman appear so calm and friendly, when she had faced so many obstacles of her own?

"I will try to arrange a time and place for the two of you to meet and converse in more detail." Nephrite's smile was telling of the longing in her voice and expression.

"I would like that very much," she said, finding there was no need to hide anything from this man who had been so adamant in assisting her. "Thank you."

"My pleasure entirely," he replied warmly. The music started toward the coda, and the sincerity in his smile was replaced with sadness. "The dance is nearing its end. It has been a great pleasure to be your partner, Lady Serena."

Serena noticed the shift, and felt her own invisible mask snapping into place. "Likewise, Lord Nephrite. I do envy how your next partner will be infinitely more amenable than mine."

"Do not be unnerved," Nephrite said, as reassuringly as he could. "You have a talent and flair for dancing, something that is far beyond the influence of the Prince."

She did not have a chance to reply, for the musicians played the last chord, and all was quickly silent after the polite applause. Those who had been dancing parted to make way for the Prince, who took slow strides towards Serena, a smile on his face.

"I am very impressed by your skills," Endymion said into the silence. "Let us hope that the rest of your people are equally well taught, for it would be awfully troublesome if they were all to be trained."

"Chistonian dances require an absolute mastery of technique and expression," Serena replied, eyes defiant, "that it is perhaps _your_ people who will need the training."

"Your tone is most convincing; I am almost tempted to believe you. However, words are left unheard if they are not accompanied with actions. Perhaps you may like to take this opportunity to share your abundance of knowledge. Seeing you are so confident in your skills, perhaps we should start with the most difficult pieces." He signalled to the musicians, who raised their instruments, ready to play. The Prince assumed his position, directly facing Serena, arms by his sides, slightly raised. The first notes were played, and Endymion moved effortlessly for a few moments before stopping, for Serena had remained still.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, his voice sweet and menacing. "Was I being too generous in my assumptions?"

To his surprise, Serena returned his smile, and shook her head. "I must apologise, for my attention was elsewhere. Please, let us begin." She placed her arms in the same position as his, still smiling at his mixture of bewilderment and anger. From the few heartbeats when the music was playing and the Prince was moving, Serena found that the steps were not only familiar, they had been ingrained long before she could remember. She knew this dance.

This time, when the music started, Serena was perfectly in time with Endymion, mirroring his every movement, floating with each step, turning with precision and grace. The tempo was lively, vivacious, and there was no time to think, only feel. The smooth floor under her shoes, the cool silk against her skin, the air that brushed against her as she matched the Prince with an equal passion.

It was more than a court dance; theirs was a dance of courtship. Spinning, tumbling, leaping, and all the while challenging. He was claiming her, seducing her with every concise gesture, every smouldering glance. She was defying him, teasing him with every step that brought her close enough to touch, before darting out of his reach. They passed each other several times, and their eyes roamed each other's bodies, neither shameless, neither willing to look away. In the brief moments their gloved fingertips rested against the other's, the heat shot through her hands, searing her arms. They had touched, they had been scorched, they had relented despite their firm resolutions. There was no going back. The dance ended.

The game had just begun.

Nobody spoke. His eyes still on Serena, Endymion gave a quick nod in the direction of the musicians, who started playing a different piece, this time slow and sensual. He closed the gap between them, and she did not object. They were now pressed palm to palm, and Serena could feel his quick breath on her skin. She knew this dance too, and though she allowed him to lead, Serena remained alert to his every move. The floor began to fill with people again, and the humming of talk started again.

"Very impressive." His words were soft, almost a whisper, and Serena felt a shiver run down her spine. "Perhaps I have made the mistake of underestimating you."

"I have been told that the Prince Endymion never makes mistakes."

"Just as I have been told that Chistonians cannot dance."

The sudden realisation and fury in her eyes was fuel to his smile. She found herself trying not to stumble, trying not to think of how close he was, while his warmth surrounded her, caressed her.

She drew upon her anger, her hatred, and allowed herself to think of nothing else. "Perhaps you would be better entertained with another dancing partner."

"Your reactions so far have been entertaining enough." He leaned in, lips almost brushing her neck. "And I am looking forward to your private little performance this evening."

He had resumed his distance, and was twirling her before she could respond. When Serena had regained eye contact again, her jaw ached from clenching so hard.

"I would love nothing more than to be granted a private audience." The control in her voice was slipping, and his smile grew.

"I will not disappoint." His silky voice was the last straw. She let loose the words that had echoed through her mind for the past few days.

"Why have you brought me here?"

He laughed, the rich tones vibrating like the cello that supported the music they danced to. "Patience is not one of your strongest virtues."

"I have been patient long enough." There was no amusement, no pretence in her voice, only cold, bitter hatred.

"You were at the mercy of Jadeite and his men," he said, giving her the answer she sought, but not the words she wanted to hear. "They would have ruined you, broken you beyond use, before returning you to your dearest King Diamond." She tensed at the name, at the extent of the Prince's knowledge, but knew he had more to say. "I simply wanted to spoil you myself."

His words sliced through her deeper than metal, rooting her to the ground. She could not continue playing this game when it was so obvious he had been one, two, three steps ahead of her. No…he had written the ending before she had read the first page. She had lost before it even began.

Blinded by hatred and pain, Serena turned away from the mocking blue eyes and found the door from which she entered, and left the room of lies and deception.

* * *

He heard her footsteps earlier than he expected. Darien allowed himself one last smile before tucking it away with the rest of his expression, until he became the embodiment of nonchalance as he gazed towards the star-studded sky, an eagle perched on his arm.

He could hear her slow down, hear her quick shallow breaths, and knew she had seen him. Knew she had not expected him.

Or had she?

His name was on her lips, hesitant, a sigh into the night. He turned to face her, and the surprise that etched itself on his face was not entirely insincere.

"Lady Serena?" She trembled at her own name, and took a small step towards him, leaving behind her the last of the shadows that hid her features from the moon. Her eyes, her face, her lips shone with tears, stealing the light from the stars. He found it difficult to breathe.

She said his name again, and this time, he did not hold himself back. As the eagle launched into flight, he crossed the distance until he could see the silver trails on her face that were painted by her tears.

There was a muted sound—perhaps the dropping of her mask onto the stone floor—and she was pressed against him, her arms around his neck, desperately holding him to her. He slowly placed his bare hands on her waist, the silk soft, and felt the warmth of her body beneath the thin material. The shudders grew stronger, and he buried himself in her hair, its light flowery scent cleaner than the night air. He murmured her name, then words of comfort, before slipping into his native tongue, lilting sounds that danced to her core, enveloping her, intoxicating her.

Her sobs grew quieter and eventually stilled, but he continued to roll the sweet waves of his voice through her. She relaxed her hold, and shifted until she was supporting herself, and the two held each other for an eternity, content with the silence between them.

When she started to draw away, he was still persistent, his hand immediately at her face, wiping away the remnants of her tears. He gazed into those depthless cerulean eyes, shining under the moonlight, and lost himself. He could only manage to say her name again, a sibilant exhaling of breath that brushed across her face. She let out her own ragged breath in response, and the small movement drew his attention to her lips, moist and parted.

He kissed her before he knew he could. The salty tang of tears and a sweetness that belonged to her touched him in a way he did not understand. Marvelling at the feel of her lips, he gently moved against them, showing a part of him he did not recognise as his. When she returned the kiss in an earnest, quiet way, Darien felt something inside him break.

The night was cool, and she was warm in every way. His fingers and hands played with the small of her back as she melted into his mouth. He heard a small sound—perhaps it was him—and his tongue traced her lips slowly, carefully, before she submitted, and they danced. She was everywhere, arms and legs and heated breaths, every last drop savoured, even as he eased back until their lips finally parted.

He looked into the eyes that said more than he could bear to hear, and instead tried to find his own voice.

"I'm sorry." He admired her courage, her strength, as she hid the pain that flashed across her face. "You deserve so much more."

His uncertainty changed her hurt to confusion and wariness, but the gentleness returned.

"Thank you." It was now his turn to be speechless. She managed a smile, a slight curling of lips and softening of eyes, before continuing. "For being so considerate. Thank you."

Darien shook his head, not understanding. He tried to speak, but she silenced him, a finger lightly on his lips. She said his name, a sound that wrapped itself around his heart. When he opened his mouth again to reply in kind, his rich tones echoed the same tenderness, the same beauty he had never known.

He brushed a few strands of hair away from her eyes, and allowed the gentle sensations to take over him. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't know." She closed her eyes, and when she had opened them again, the sadness had found its way back into the cerulean depths. "There's so much. I don't know."

He held her to him again, soothing her with his hands, his arms, his cheek against hers. "Don't worry about it now. Let it all go."

Darien felt her tense in his arms, but he held her tighter, urging her to relax. "I can't think." The uncertainty in her voice pulled at him, bruising him. "There's just so much. I just can't..."

He placed kisses on her hair, her forehead. "I know, Serena, I know." He hesitated and tested his next words silently on his lips, not knowing how difficult it would be to say them. "Let me stay with you tonight. I won't hurt you. I promise."

She took a moment to consider, and his chest ached, from longing, from his held breath, from a sudden swelling – he did not know. Perhaps it would have been followed by her refined refusal or quiet acceptance, but Darien never heard her answer, for he took her gloved hand and slowly led her across the stone floor, through the empty corridors, and into his room.

There were no objections, no words between them, only a politely turned back and the whisper of hair freed from its confines, the rustle of silk sliding onto the floor. Only when Serena had slipped between the sheets did Darien face her again and sat beside her on the bed, his fingers against her cheek.

"Just close your eyes, and go to sleep." His voice was soft, almost melodic. "Nothing can touch you now. I'm right here, I won't hurt you. I promise."

As he watched her sleep, her features relaxing into an unfamiliar serenity, Darien recounted the events of the evening, searching for the clues that had brought them here. He had planned for his arrogance and sarcasm as the Prince to be enough to drive her away, and he had known where she would go. He had prepared for his change of clothes and arrived in time to destroy the last of her comforts, and yet...

He thought he had played his gentle and caring part well, but now he was not sure whether it had ever just been pretend. Listening to her deep, steady breathing, the Prince's breath caught at the realisation that he no longer knew the rules to his own game.

* * *

AN: And there's finally some Darien/Serena scenes! I know I've spent some time setting up the other characters and their relationships with Serena (which will continue to be developed as the story progresses), but there will definitely be many more Darien/Serena scenes from here onwards. Again, I really hope you liked this chapter, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts!


	9. Chapter 8

**As the Eagle Flies**

I'm very sorry about the month-long delay of this chapter—the last couple of weeks at uni have been very demanding, and I didn't want to give you guys a dodgy chapter. I have also been receiving some very lovely reviews as of late, and I want to let you guys know that I really appreciate them. You guys really make my day. :)

* * *

Chapter 8

She woke up strangely refreshed. The morning air was chilly against her face, but she was warmly wrapped in thick blankets. It took her a while to register that the colours and smells of the room were different to hers, and only then did she remember the events from the night before. Serena sat up in the bed, and found Darien sitting on a chair beside her, fast asleep and still fully dressed. Draped across an arm of the chair was the beautiful silk dress she had left on the floor from the previous night. Serena realised then that she was only wearing her underclothes, and was relieved that he was still asleep. She quietly slipped out of the bed, took the soft fabric and stepped into it, pulling it around her. She fumbled behind her back with the laces, and was surprised when a warm pair of hands stopped her, before firmly tying the knots for her.

"Thank you," she said softly when he had finished. She turned around and looked up into his dark blue eyes, their colour almost indiscernible in the low light. "I hope I did not wake you."

He seemed unsure of what to say, and her uneasiness started to return. "How are you feeling?"

The last wisps of sleep—those exquisite moments of blessed oblivion—dissipated. The full knowledge of her helplessness, of how she had so blatantly declared her defeat to the Prince, dawned upon her. She wanted to turn away and forget all the impossible possibilities, but her body betrayed her and instead began to speak.

"I don't want to be here. I never found any joy, any comfort here, not or a single moment. How could I? I don't know what's expected of me, and all I can do is play a game for which the result has already been predetermined. The climax seemed to have been reached last night, but I don't know what's involved, or how it came about, or even why." She hesitated at the memories. "Last night..." Uncertain, Serena looked away from him.

"What happened last night?" He was gentle, concerned. "You can trust me, Serena. I won't hurt you."

She found reassurance in his words, in the hand that had reached for hers. "He was malicious, cruel, a puppet-master. He watched my every move, heard my every word, and never left me in peace. Always taunting, always manipulating, as if his sole purpose was to abuse his power and make everyone suffer. I hate him."

Darien seemed to be stunned by the strength of her conviction, but that only seemed to increase her anger. "I don't understand why you are all so quick to obey him," she continued. "You, and the Shitennou, and all those who endlessly sing his praises. Do you all fail to see his selfishness?"

"Perhaps I should ask the same about your King Diamond," he said, almost in a growl. "Are you not betrothed to marry him?"

Serena narrowed her eyes. "How much does the Prince know about me? How much of that knowledge has he shared?" Her tone was accusing, challenging.

Darien met her gaze squarely. "I only know what he has chosen to tell me, Serena. I would not willingly keep anything from you."

All these promises, all this hurling of the intangible concept of trust. How much of his words could she really believe? How much did she really know about him?

"Must we talk about this?" Darien's sigh, his tired voice, cast a new light on Serena's perspective. He had not slept properly, had tried to reassure and comfort her as best he could, and she was still stubbornly accusing him of things she did not truly understand for herself. "Could we at least hold our discussion over our morning meal?"

She gave an uncertain nod, before regretting her decision. Surely, the Prince would notice she had been missing, and would have sent his people to search for her. How would he react, once he found out she was with Darien? And how would he punish Darien?

But the man had already left the bedroom, and was talking to someone whom he had called for. He left some quick instructions, and then returned to the room without any of the fear or hesitation she had expected to see. Serena felt an unpleasant twinge as she wondered how often he had given such instructions, while an unknown girl waited in his bedroom, hair mused and half-undressed.

Darien gave her a quick smile, before gesturing for her to follow him into a spacious room that was arranged for the purposes of dining and quiet entertainment. The thick curtains were drawn open here, and the sunlight almost blinded her as her eyes tried to adjust. Feeling estranged in this unfamiliar yet intimate environment, Serena stood back and waited. When he stopped moving, he noticed the silence stretching out between them, and he ran his fingers through his hair in what seemed like a nervous gesture.

"I apologise for being so inappropriately dressed..."

It was the last thing she expected to hear from him, and her ever-changing impression of him had shifted once again. She could not help but smile at the irony of his words, as Serena was sure her own appearance was much less acceptable than his.

"I suppose I can bear to look upon your attire, as long as you are able to deal with mine."

"You look splendid," he said quietly. She found herself softening at his words, his tone, his hint of a smile. He shifted his stance, and the movement brought her attention to the black object that was on the other side of the room.

Darien followed her gaze, and smiled upon discovering her interest. She looked at him, as if to obtain his permission, and at his nod, she slowly approached the pianoforte.

It was made of the finest wood, finished with a black polish, a soft glean that whispered the secrets it knew so quietly you could not make out the words. It was a large, grand instrument, and Serena wondered how she could have missed it before. Her fingers brushed against the lid, and with another nod from Darien, she lifted it, revealing the ivory and ebony keys that bared its teeth and smiled back at her.

Darien had pulled out the stool behind her, and she took the seat, her hands gliding over the keys, an amazed look on her face. She did not expect to ever sit in front of a pianoforte again, but now that she was comfortably situated, she would not put an opportunity to waste. Her back straightened instinctively, and she took a breath, her hands already in the position to play.

The notes that rang out were rich, mellow tones that found their way around her soul, embracing her pain like an understanding lover. She ached at the forlorn sounds, and poured herself into the music through the fingertips that coaxed the keys into tumbling with her own lachrymosity. They responded to the other as if they had been reunited after a lifetime's separation, and were finally able to become one again. Where she needed expression, the instrument sang for her; where it needed release, Serena opened herself for the murmurs and cries.

She could have played for another eternity, but the piece was nearing its end. They said their goodbyes in mournful cries, and with the promise that they would not be parted for long. Serena allowed the last, sombre chord to ring out, the notes spreading against the walls before withdrawing back into the instrument, another secret carefully tucked between its heartstrings.

Serena remained still long after the silence had taken over, her fingers still resting on the keys. She knew Darien's eyes were on her, but she did not move, nor attempted to see his reaction.

"That was amazing." Darien had not tried to keep the awe from his voice, and Serena found herself strangely pleased. "I didn't know such sounds could be made from this instrument..."

"It is my first time too," she replied simply. "It is magnificent."

She knew he wanted to ask more, and feeling strangely open, Serena provided him with the answers he was still wording the questions to.

"I've been playing for as long as I can remember," she said, her fingers now tendering stroking the familiar coolness that warmed to her touch. "My childhood was always filled with music, from dances, from performances, from the instruments we all knew how to play. But never in my life have I encountered an instrument that was so..."

"That seemed like it had a life of its own?"

She regarded him for a moment, expression unreadable. "Yes. Precisely that. You seem to have quite an understanding about such matters. Do you play?"

He shook his head., sending ebony strands over his eyes. "Not very well. My mother used to play a great deal, and I had always loved listening to her while she spent hours upon hours making music with her hands. She had always preferred the sound of the harpsichord, and rarely played with this pianoforte."

Darien's tone had changed while he talked about his mother, and Serena could only nod in what was half-understanding, half-respect.

"Zoisite and Kunzite, however, are very gifted musicians who have spent some time acquainting themselves with this instrument. Perhaps an evening of music-playing can be arranged. I'm sure they would love to hear your music."

The ease and familiarity with which he spoke about the Shitennou brought many questions that she wanted to ask, but they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Darien quickly excused himself and left the room for a few moments, before returning with a tray of food, which he placed on the dining table.

"Your morning meal is ready, Lady Serena." He waited for her to sit before arranging the plates in front of her. He sat opposite her, and they both began to eat, as the sun filled the room with its warmth.

"You are right," he said after most of their meal had been eaten. "We do need to speak. I am sure you have many questions, and you have all the right to know the answers. Please, do not hold back all that has been troubling you. Let loose your thoughts, Serena."

Relaxing from his words, Serena took a slow sip of her coffee, savouring the richness of the taste. "Why weren't you at the ball last night? I thought all those who the Prince knew were invited, and those who received an invitation had little choice but to attend."

"Not everyone." Darien's expression was grim, and Serena listened attentively. "Those who fall out of favour with the Prince are sometimes purposely left uninvited. It is a way in which he reinforces his power."

"Are you in any danger?" Serena was no fool, and if she had read Endymion correctly, she knew he wasn't one either. She had found herself a companion – what kind of reaction did the Prince have upon that discovery?

"I'm afraid I had the audacity to win against him in our last hunting trip, and he hasn't quite forgiven me for it."

"Are you being serious?" She was doubtful, and a little angered. Perhaps Darien was trying to protect her, but what kind of deluded person did he take her for?

Darien nodded solemnly. "Very much so. Prince Endymion takes great pride in his horsemanship and skills in archery."

She was still full of disbelief, and was about to question him again when he reached across the table and covered a hand over hers. "Please do not be afraid, or find cause to worry. If the Prince had found out about his, he would not hesitate to carry out his punishments."

"What about Nephrite? And even Jadeite? Surely, they have an idea of what's going on, and are bound by oath to report to Endymion."

Darien shook his head. "Loyalty to the Prince is not such a simple matter. The Shitennou have long been close acquaintances of mine, and they understand this is not posing a threat to Sairelle."

Serena withdrew her hand. "This? What is the 'this' you have been referring to?"

"You. Me." Darien extended his hand, palm up, waiting for her acceptance. After a few moments of silence, he took his hand back, defeated. "I apologise for the assumptions I have made, Lady Serena."

She opened her mouth to speak, but he had already looked away, her brief hesitation tainting the opportunity. But he had been too blunt, too straightforward, and she was not yet capable of giving him an adequate response. Knowing he would feel that making any further attempts are conversation might come across as rude, Serena searched for a safe topic that would lead them away from their disagreement.

"You mentioned you are good friends with Nephrite," she said, strangely apprehensive as he watched her. "How did this come about?"

To Serena's relief, he began to relax. "We have known each other since childhood," he said, a smile on his lips. "Nephrite's family encountered a bit of misfortune, but they knew the Royal Family, and when Nephrite was left to fend for himself when he was eight, he was taken in by the King and Queen, and received an education alongside the Prince."

"And with you?"

Darien nodded. "We all grew up together, the Shitennou and I. We all read the same books, played the same games, even eyed the same women. Of course, the latter was a passing phase that had more to do with our eagerness to become fully grown men." He took a sip of his own coffee. "The Prince was there too, but he was always different, always slightly set apart from the rest of us. It became more pronounced as he matured and started to spend less time with us and more with his responsibilities."

They had both finished their meals, and there was not even the soft clinking of cutlery to make the silence comfortable. He had revealed things about the Prince that Serena cared nothing for – in her mind, Endymion would always be the cold-hearted bastard who took away everything she ever loved on a whim. Something inside told her what ever she and Darien shared had its limits, and that limit was now being fast approached. She tried to smile reassuringly at him, but knew that he was not fooled by her feeble attempt.

"Your company has been much appreciated this morning. However, I do believe I need some time to myself. Would you be so kind as to escort me back to my room?"

She was not convinced by his returning smile either, but hours later in the safety of her own room, Serena could not keep herself from recalling his warmth as Darien offered a hand to help her to her feet, and placed a gentle kiss.

* * *

Nephrite silently took a deep breath and waited for his liege to speak. He could recall a dozen other instances when their meetings started with unspoken words, but never had the Shitennou been so alert and tense. And never had Endymion's silence been anything but a command, one of his countless ploys to test their loyalty. Now, looking at the distant man who stood by the window, Nephrite was almost convinced that Endymion was struggling to find the right words.

When they finally came, it was so soft and unexpected that Nephrite thought he had misheard. The Prince of Sairelle, giving them permission to speak their thoughts?

Zoisite stepped forward, the concern evident on his face. "Your Highness, do you require a physician?"

A hand waved the dismissal, and it was another moment before the Prince turned to face them. "I shall manage well enough without one." However weary, his eyes still gleamed with intelligence. "Lord Kunzite, what happened in the ballroom after my disappearance?"

Kunzite took a deep bow. "I changed into your clothing, as instructed, and remained pleasantly inapproachable for the remainder of the evening. I believe it would be safe to say that your presence was not missed.

Nephrite expected a curt remark of some sort, but the Prince simply nodded. "You have done well, Lord Kunzite."

If the other men were surprised by his reaction, they did not show it. Instead, Jadeite took the initiative to step forward and pose his own question.

"Your Highness, it has been more than a week since we have conquered Tristone. Their resources have been gathered and are being put to good use, and their men are preparing for battle. We should seize this opportunity before the Chistonians change their minds, and launch an attack further within the heart of Chiston."

The last of Jadeite's words reverberated across the room as the Prince contemplated them, weighting the choices with a scale whose proportions only he understood.

There was a slight hesitancy, so uncharacteristic of the Prince that Nephrite thought he had imagined it, before Endymion made his response. "If the Chistonians have wanted to launch a rebellion against Diamond for so many years, they can wait a few more weeks. I want you to ensure that they are trained to perform at their full capabilities before an attack is to be considered. Seeing as you have volunteered yourself Lord Jadeite, you are now in charge of matters related to Tristone. I assume you also have a detailed knowledge of the city's defences, having overpowered them yourself. Rebuild what your army has destroyed so that Tristone can now stand as a fortress between Chiston and the rest of Sairelle."

Although Jadeite accepted his orders with a bow, Nephrite could see that the blonde general had his reservations. Perhaps this decision was a new strategy that Endymion did not yet want to share with his Shitennou, but the way the Prince delivered and phrased his instructions made Nephrite uneasy. There was also a lack of cruelty in his voice, in the way he treated his subjects, which, despite being humiliating, was a way of treatment no one could question. In its absence, Nephrite felt himself more uncomfortable than relieved.

As if to confirm Nephrite's train of thought, Endymion spoke again. "I am sure you all have business to attend to. You may go."

A dismissal that sounded more like consideration for the Shitennou than an order to be left alone. Nephrite saw the other generals shift their glances towards one another, equally discomforted by the change of demeanour. Instinctively, Nephrite looked at Kunzite for guidance, hoping that the leader of the Shitennou was more prepared than the rest of them to interpret this situation and behave accordingly.

"Your Highness, please forgive me for my unfounded assumptions, but are you certain that there is nothing more you would like to discuss?" Kunzite's words were phrased as delicately and politely as such a question could be, and Nephrite found himself nodding in agreement.

The Prince, however, was not one to be impressed. There was no mistaking the anger that now rose from within the powerful man, and Nephrite could not help but silently curse himself for his stupidity. In a moment of uncertainty, the Shitennou had interpreted the slightly changed behaviour and reservations as leniency, and crossed a line that was beyond them to approach. But the words had been said, the step had been taken, and there was no room for regrets.

"Am I one to be questioned?" The Prince regarded each man, his dark blue eyes boring into the Shitennou. "Remember to whom you speak."

Kunzite bowed. "My most sincere apologies, Prince Endymion."

"If you have finished wasting my time by sharing your inconsequential thoughts, then leave."

This time the dismissal left no room for challenging. The Shitennou bowed as one, and slowly began heading towards the door. When Zoisite noticed that Nephrite had barely moved from his position, he cast a questioning glance. The taller general shook his head, and resigned, Zoisite continued on his way, until only Nephrite was left with Endymion.

"Have I not made myself clear, Lord Nephrite?"

Nephrite swallowed, and then tried not to grimace. This was no time for hesitation. "I would like to obtain your permission in respect to an unrelated matter, Your Highness." He silently cursed himself again for his choice in words. Nephrite had never been as verbally talented as the rest of the Shitennou, and was no match for the Prince.

Endymion carefully regarded his discomfort, and did nothing to alleviate it. "You may present your case."

"As you may have noticed, Lady Serenity had been engaging in a conversation with Lady Lita throughout the course of the last night's dinner." Nephrite tried to keep his voice even as Endymion's attention shifted at the mentioning of Serena. "Furthermore, Lady Serenity and I had a chance to converse during our brief partnership in the dance."

"I am sure that was not the only opportunity you have had in conversing with the Lady."

Nephrite bowed respectfully. "I would not dare, without the permission of Your Highness."

"And are you seeking that at the present moment?"

The malevolence was not lost on Nephrite, and he quickly tried to clear the misunderstanding. "I am asking about another matter. Lady Lita has invited Lady Serenity to visit her estate and partake in some activities, and Lady Serenity has expressed her wish to oblige. I am here on both their behalf."

He knew the Prince would take some time to consider, but Nephrite did not expect the silence to stretch for so long. What he had requested in these circumstances was a request for punishment, and Nephrite found it ironic that he was going to such great lengths in order to assist Serena.

"Lord Nephrite, it seems you have been granted permission for both your explicit request and your unexpressed desires. At your earliest convenience—perhaps the noontime meal might be a good opportunity—you are to provide Lady Serenity with the company you have been so willing to share. Let her know that you will both be visiting Lady Lita tomorrow. You will also be kind as to make no references to the Prince having granted any permission. Perhaps Endymion has left the palace to continue his bloodthirsty adventure, and you have taken the initiative to arrange an unauthorised excursion of your own. If she starts getting too suspicious, perhaps you should shed vignettes from our childhood if you wish – she seems to enjoy discussing that well enough."

Nephrite managed to regain his composure and spoke as the Prince finished. "Is there anything else I should know, Your Highness?"

From the look in Endymion's eyes, Nephrite knew his most difficult task had yet to be assigned. And despite not yet knowing, the caution, the deliberation, the uncertain way his Prince had been acting gave him the hope that something was different, something would improve, though he did not know what, or how.

"You are then to notify Lady Lita of those arrangements. You are to instruct her and anyone else who may be encountered through this visit, of the differences between Prince Endymion and Darien, and to act accordingly when in the presence of Darien. Do you require any clarification, Lord Nephrite?"

He could have taken the opportunity to ask, to attempt the riddles whose intricacies increased with time, but perhaps it would be more effective to simply obey and watch the scenes play out before him. "You have made your instructions perfectly clear, Your Highness."

"Very well." Endymion studied him, seeing the questions Nephrite was too afraid to form. But like with the other instances that day, the Prince allowed his general to go without further attacks. "Please proceed to your task at hand then."

Nephrite bowed at the third dismissal he received in one day, already considering the options he had in speaking to the two Ladies. The recent pool of dread that accompanied his Prince's instructions pertaining Serena resurfaced with the fresh lies he had to spin, but Nephrite could not understand the anticipation he felt at the thought of the fast-approaching encounter.

* * *

For a reason beyond her knowledge, Mina found herself relieved when the opening of the door was followed by the appearance of Serena, still wearing the gown from the evening before. Mina had sprang to her feet and fussed over the other girl, ordering for a bath to be drawn and coaxing her out of the dress and into the warm water. They had sat together in the small room, Serena in the tub and Mina on a stool, and barely half a dozen exchanges were made. Mina was initially surprised that Serena had listened to and obeyed the instructions without protesting, but the other girl's discomfort at undressing and being attended to by a stranger was evident throughout the course of the bathing. And noticing the pensive expression Serena held, Mina found herself understanding the reasons behind her indifference.

Now Serena was sitting at the vanity, Mina brushing the long blonde hair with a silver comb. She had received a quick note from Kunzite in the morning that briefly warned her of the need to remain in the assigned room and greet Serena when she returned. There was a short sentence mentioning the events that occurred the previous evening, but that also pertained to Serena's disappearance almost immediately after the dancing began, and _that_ was just a prelude to her instructions. The note had been signed off with Kunzite's title, making it clear that the correspondence was purely impersonal. Having little choice but to obey, Mina had settled in to wait for Serena's return, and tried to divert her thoughts away from the centre of negativity and unhappiness.

Mina didn't realise she had inadvertently been thinking of exactly what she had tried to avoid until Serena noticed her frown reflected from the mirror.

"Would you like to voice your displeasures instead of marring your face with that scathing look?"

Despite the chiding words, there was a hint of concern in Serena's voice that Mina could not overlook. She contemplated giving a vague response and brushing the matter off, but that would launch them into the indefinite silence that Mina was finding it harder to tolerate. Her decision made, she settled herself into the reality she had recently constructed for her role.

"It's just that these past few days have not been the easiest," she said, her voice girlish and almost theatrical. "It has been a blessing to be assigned to Miss, but there has been so much else going on…"

"Is that the case? Apart from the 'celebration' yesterday evening, I was under the assumption that not much has been going on at all."

Noting the bitterness with which Serena had referred to the ball, Mina found an opening to lead her away from suspicions. "Did you not enjoy the masquerade ball, miss?"

Serena's laugh was a forced sound, harsh to the ears. "Was I expected to take great delight in an event held to celebrate the slaughtering of my family and friends?" She saw Mina's horrified look, and softened her voice. "No, I did not enjoy it."

Mina nodded at the response, and continued brushing Serena's hair. A small movement made her pause, and look at Serena's reflection.

"Have you never attended one of those balls, Mina? Is that why you are so curious?"

Mina shook her head. "Servants are not allowed to step foot into the grand hall when guests are present." What she said was true enough.

"It is really not as entertaining or glamorous as you may think. Countless people in their masks, gossiping about the latest scandals. It is all just a pretence, an outward appearance of finery and courtesy, when there is only greed and ambition at the heart of it all."

Mina had no choice but to nod, though her opinions of those social occasions differed significantly from Serena's. She had loved every single ball she attended, and found great pleasure in all the activities involved – the dancing, the talking, the food and the wine. And then there were the other set of activities that occurred behind closed doors after the events, which always culminated at the end of the evening.

"Did you always dislike balls, miss? Even in Chiston?"

Her expression changed into one of pain and nostalgia. "No, it was not always like this. I used to love balls." She closed her eyes, and Mina knew she was reliving the scene in her mind. Were the dresses as intricate and elaborate, the musicians as fine and delicate? Did she have her many suitors waiting for their turn to compliment the lady, or was there just the one person to direct her gaze at? Serena opened her eyes again, the memories carefully folded away. "It will never be the same again."

The sorrow and longing for things forever lost was real. How many people had seen this? How many of the countless people in masks had taken a good look at the topic of their gossip? And did the girl in front of her really think that Mina had nothing to do with those people she hated, was not an extension of the plot against her?

Feeling sorry for her, Mina offered Serena what little support she could give. "It is never easy, losing someone you love."

"Mina?" It was both a question and a recognition.

"My parents died when I was little," Mina said. "I don't remember much of them, but I don't suppose things would've been the same if they were around when I grew up."

"How did you come to the palace then?"

"The palace is a large place, and there is always a need for servants. I was brought up in the haberdashery until I was twelve, when I was sent to help at the palace. I worked hard and they liked me. One of the ladies whose gowns I fixed took me in. I served her for a few years."

"How were you assigned to me?"

Mina smiled. "It was truly a blessing, miss. There was some trouble with important men who had taken a liking to me and I wanted out. But I couldn't run away. They wouldn't let me, and I wouldn't have gone far. I was angry and scared one day, so I shouted at them. I would rather serve a Chistonian than lift my skirts to them. Lord Kunzite was passing by and he heard me. He asked me if I meant what I said, and I said yes, I meant it. Nobody dares to lie to Lord Kunzite. So he ordered me to pack my belongings and make my way here. The men couldn't do anything because defying Lord Kunzite meant defying the Prince. So I came here, and you let me stay. Thank you for letting me stay, miss."

"I had very little to do with it," Serena replied. Mina knew the other girl was considering the words, and felt only a small touch of guilt. It was not an extravagant lie, but it was a lie. The incident had happened years, not weeks, ago, and she was appointed more to douse Serena's suspicions than to serve her.

Serena was speaking again. "Are you well-acquainted with Lord Kunzite?"

The question caught her off-guard. Mina hoped that her sudden discomfort would be interpreted as the nervousness with which servants spoke of those in higher authority. "We have crossed paths a few times in the past."

"Do you know him very well? What is he like?"

What was Kunzite like? He was dedicated, loyal, and took his position as the leader of the Shitennou very seriously. Meticulous, powerful, a dignified man who disapproved of the mistreatment of women. His attentiveness to her in bed was counterbalanced by his long hours, days, sometimes even weeks of absence. It had always been duty over personal interest for him. Always.

"I don't really know," Mina said, a slight tremble in her voice. "Everyone in the kingdom knows of Lord Kunzite, but only a few really know him."

The distinction was not lost to Serena, and Mina felt a tinge of jealousy. She knew that only those whom the Prince trusted most were permitted to have any contact with Serena, and that almost exclusively consisted of the Shitennou. It was certainly not impossible that Serena and Kunzite have already made their own acquaintance, and she was simply trying to fish for more information. Mina knew she had an obligation to remain silent and simply report her findings to Kunzite afterwards, but she was not as disciplined as the general. She was finding a way to best phrase her question when a knock sounded on the door.

Not knowing whether to be annoyed or thankful for the interruption, Mina went to answer it. Only the Shitennou and the Prince himself knew Serena was living in these rooms that were a part of the Prince's private chambers, and any of those five men could be on the other side, one of whom she wasn't sure she could deal with at the moment.

She exhaled a quiet sigh of relief after opening the door. "Good afternoon, Lord Nephrite," she said, seeing Serena rise from her chair. "Please, do come in and take a seat."

* * *

AN: The next few chapters shouldn't have too much delay between postings, primarily because I am currently undertaking NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), and will be partially working on this story for the project. Thank you again for your patience, and please review!


	10. Chapter 9

**As the Eagle Flies**

Surprise! It's an update within a week! I am very, very happy to be able to present you guys with this chapter, which I'm very quite fond of for its varying atmospheres. And at end of it…well, you'll just have to find out. XD

I really love hearing all your opinions about this story, especially since you all have so many different ideas about the character of Darien/Endymion (yes, they are indeed the same person). Some of you have even speculated that the duplicity resembles a certain Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, and though there are similarities, I have to say that it was not my main inspiration. You're more than welcome to take a guess as to what the my actual inspiration was (hints: think falconry, deception, gender relations); I'll post the answer along with the next chapter.

Speaking of which, I already have the next chapter written and waiting to be posted, all thanks to NaNoWriMo. It looks like you guys won't have to wait that long to see the end of the story after all (but there is a substantial amount of things to cover). Thank you again for your continued patience and interest (and for reading this long author's note—this is my first story of a substantial length, and I've never had opportunities to hold 'conversations' with my readers, so I'm really quite excited. Hope you don't mind!). Now, please enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Chapter 9

Mina led Nephrite to the spacious entertaining room, working hard to keep a smile on her face while simultaneously avoiding his gaze. Serena was not far behind, but her smile of greeting was a genuine one.

"Nephrite, it is a pleasure to see you," she said. "I enjoyed your company last night, and I did not think our next encounter would be so soon!"

Nephrite extended a hand, and after a small moment of hesitation, Serena placed her own on top of it. "The pleasure is all mine, my lady." He lifted her hand and placed a small kiss in the formal greeting. Mina watched the exchange, and saw the slight narrowing of Serena's eyes, before it softened into a smile.

Mina waited until they had settled into their seats. "Would Lord Nephrite require any refreshments?"

She kept her expression neutral as Nephrite struggled for words. From their brief encounter in the same set of rooms a few days ago, he would have realised Mina would be with Serena before he knocked on the door. It must have taken him longer to register the significance and disregard that she was his leader and friend's lover. For both their sakes, Mina hoped that Nephrite would be able to reach his own conclusion, soon.

It was Serena who spoke into the silence. "I think there are some tea leaves on the top shelf in the next room. Could you please fetch them, Mina, and ask for some hot water to be brought up?" She turned to Nephrite. "Would tea be all right?"

"Tea would be lovely."

As Mina carried out Serena's instructions, she wondered how Nephrite was reacting to Serena's behaviour. And she wondered why he was here in the first place.

"Perhaps you would like to stay for the midday meal? Mina and I have not eaten yet, and we will be delighted to have you join us."

"As tempting as the offer is, I'm afraid I must refuse. There are a few things I must see to this afternoon."

Serena's smile disappeared, and Mina felt the girl shifting into her cool demeanour. "I am sure you have many important tasks to attend to, all of which contribute to the fate of this country."

"Actually, I need to make a few arrangements in regards to a little trip we're going to make." Nephrite paused and shot a look in Mina's direction, then decided there would be no harm in speaking in her presence. "I hope you have not forgotten Lady Lita's generous offers last evening."

"There are many things from yesterday evening that I have not forgotten, and will not forget."

A quiet knock on the door had Mina receiving the hot water and china, and she quickly worked on brewing the tea. She could see from her peripheral vision that Nephrite regretted the turn of events, and was now trying to improve matters after having so blatantly rejected Serena's invitation, possibly the first she had extended.

"These arrangements need to be made in haste, but I assure you, we will have all the time to dine and speak when tomorrow comes."

That seemed to placate her, and Serena took a sip of her tea, patiently waiting for Nephrite to continue speaking.

"Prince Endymion will be leaving the capital this evening, and will be gone for at least a week. Not many except the Shitennou know your appearance, so we can use that to our advantage. Our journey begins at dawn tomorrow—not many questions will be asked if we leave early in the morning. Lady Lita's estate is a few hours away, and we hope to reach it before noon. I'm sure she will have activities planned for you, and we will remain as her guests for the night."

Serena regarded Nephrite with something akin to astonishment. "Have you spoken to Lita about this inane idea of yours?"

Nephrite grinned. "I have sent a messenger with a brief outline, and as soon as these details are fully conveyed to you, I will personally see Lady Lita."

"I hope you are not coercing her into partaking in what is essentially treasonous."

"Do you honestly believe the Countess can be convinced into something she does not want?" Nephrite sat forward in his chair and became more serious. "After you left the ball yesterday evening, Lady Lita and I held a conversation about this. We both agree you need a break from these stifling walls."

Serena considered his words. "Does anyone else know?"

"Only one other." He seemed hesitant, and Mina saw him glance her way. "Darien is also willing to assist."

The girl made the slightest of nods, and waited for Nephrite to give his explanation.

"He is a trusted friend of mine. We will be leaving in a carriage, and I do not want you to be alone and unprotected, in the case that any trouble arises."

Mina knew Serena had more questions, and the girl's resolute look told her they won't be asked. Save one.

"And what if the Prince finds out?"

There was a challenged in that voice, laced with strength and hope. And just the smallest taste of fear.

"He won't." Mina marvelled at the conviction of Nephrite's lie, at the unwavering look between him and Serena. Then he relaxed, the easy grin returning to his lips. "Besides, how often have you embarked on an adventure like this? You should be excited!"

"I suppose you're right."

Mina wondered how the Prince would react if he saw the smile that Serena gave Nephrite. Would he have been furious with the intimacy between the two? How many of those smiles had graced Serena's face during the week she was here? The Prince may be playing his game well, but did he really have control over the little things, the way warmth that filled the two's expressions as Nephrite relayed the details of his plan?

As Mina listened to Nephrite speak and recalled the words he had uttered since his arrival, she found herself certain of one thing: she was not the only one who could paint such a vivid lie.

* * *

She knew it would be a beautiful day. Serena had risen before dawn and silently lit the lamps scattered around her bedroom. A quick check on Mina confirmed that she was half asleep, and Serena left the girl alone. She dressed slowly, taking her time to tie her corset behind her back. Perhaps the loops and knots weren't made in the exact way or order in Sairelle, but Serena knew the Chistonian way. Autumn days, no matter how fine, were always a bit chilly, so Serena sifted through the dresses in the wardrobe and made sure she would be adequately warm. To her delight, she found a thick riding cloak tucked among the other clothing.

She quietly made her way to one of the doors that joined the corridors, and had barely taken a seat when the handle turned and the door opened, a small crack that was barely discernible. The movement was not lost to the visitor, and the crack widened until Serena could see the man standing before her.

"Good morning, Darien," she said, noting how his eyes quickly swept her body. "I hope you have rested well."

"I have indeed, Lady Serena." He took her hand and kissed it, his lips warm against her skin. She tried not to shiver at the touch, but a small blush crept to her cheeks; Serena hoped he would not notice in the dim light. "Are you ready to leave?"

At the nod, Darien led her out of the room, closing the door softly behind them. He offered his arm, and Serena took it wordlessly. The hallway was lit with sconces, casting their shadows in a strange way that shifted and twisted with every movement. Their footsteps echoed throughout the silence in a matched rhythm that Serena felt like humming to. But she restrained herself, and neither exchanged a word as Darien led them through the corners and stairs, passing the large area Serena remembered from the ball, and towards the massive wooden structure that served as a part of her exit into freedom. The doormen and servants bowed respectfully as they approached, and to Serena's relief, allowed them to pass without any questions. She walked past them in a hurry, not wanting them to meet her eyes and see her for who she really was. Her nerves must have betrayed her to Darien, for he laid his free hand on her own that was looped through his arm. She flashed him a quick smile of gratitude, and he returned it generously, lightly squeezing her hand in response.

She felt the difference the moment she stepped outside. Her first breath tasted like the sharpness of clean, wet grass, her second like molten sunrise. She couldn't distinguish between the textures of her next few gulps of fresh air, but they rejuvenated her in a way she had never really understood. The morning air was chilly, and the sky was a shade of blue that she rarely remembered seeing. The stars were taking the last steps of their dance, but in a few hours they too would be hidden behind the veil of day once again. The horizon was tinged with the slightest of orange; dawn was fast approaching.

She was only vaguely aware of her surroundings until they arrived at a carriage drawn by two horses, the magnificent beasts waiting for their command from Nephrite. The general greeted them with a nod, and Darien helped her into the carriage before following her inside. He closed the door and sat opposite her, then gave Nephrite the signal to go.

The carriage lurched into motion, and the sounds of iron horseshoes against the cobblestone enveloped them. They travelled for a few minutes before stopping. It was difficult to make out what Nephrite was saying from the inside of the carriage, but Serena knew what was going on between him and the guards. She managed to catch the guard wishing Nephrite a pleasant journey, before Nephrite spurned the horses into action again.

Only the clamour of hooves and wheels against the road were heard by Darien and Serena inside the carriage. Her heart pounded against her chest—perhaps they matched the rhythm of the horses, though she could not be sure—but she remained silent, waiting for Darien to speak.

The words were accompanied with a smile that warmed her insides, interrupting the regularity of her heartbeats. "I am pleased to announce that we have successfully left the palace, Lady Serena."

She could not contain her joy—where had it come from? Was it the air, the newfound liberty, the man sitting opposite her, who had risked so much for her?—and she wanted to sing her happiness. And she knew, from the light in Darien's own eyes, that he _knew_ how she felt, that did not need to express herself in words for him to understand. It was nowhere near enough, but she said it anyway, her voice breaking halfway into the first word. "Thank you, Darien."

The beautiful day had just begun.

* * *

Lita's smile was only half-sincere as she greeted her guests to her estate. Lord Nephrite, one of the famed Shitennou she had only met two evenings ago, had spoken to her very seriously about this visit. She was surprised to find that the Prince was to be personally involved, and shocked to hear that the Prince would not be regarded as a Prince when in Serena's presence. The initial bewilderment had turned into anger as the significance dawned upon her—the poor girl had not yet discovered the Prince's identity. Lita had not wanted to be involved, but it was already too late—Nephrite had made the request to the Prince, who in turn had given his orders. She was simply forced to deceive Serena about the Prince.

But some of Nephrite's words still echoed in her mind. "It may be a half-constructed reality, but this could give Serena the small happiness that she deserves. Has the girl not suffered enough through the Prince's schemes, and is this not preferred over other cruelties he may have had in mind for her? Perhaps the circumstances may be contrived, but I know your concern is genuine. As long as you remain faithful to that above all else, I do not think Serena will be ungrateful and blame you for your actions."

Lita both agreed and disagreed to what the general had said. Her integrity would not allow her to blatantly lie to Serena, and she knew from their brief encounter during the ball that the two had a lot in common and a lot more to share. What she was concerned about, however, was Serena's well-being. Would these tenacious memories and sense of security and friendship they created only serve to be another weapon against Serena once she does realise the truth?

So she avoided looking in the Prince's direction, and only rushed to embrace Serena in her greeting. The girl tensed at the unexpected contact, but slowly relaxed and returned the embrace before they parted.

"I hope your trip was well," Lita said, pushing aside her mixed feelings. "I have been looking forward to your arrival so much, I daresay I was up and ready early this morning, though I knew you would not be here until noon."

"Your sentiments are mutually felt," was Serena's reply. She stepped aside, and gestured towards the Prince. "I am not sure if you two are acquainted, but I know Darien was not present at the ball."

The words escaped her before she could stop them. "That must have been a shame." Lita did not look away from his glare, but she did try to soften her voice. "Lady Serena here was most exquisitely dressed that evening."

"She was indeed," the Prince replied neutrally. "I had the honour of being in Lady Serena's presence later that evening."

Lita ignored the insinuation, and turned to her friend. "Serena, I have heard a great deal about your friend, but this is the first time I have been granted a direct audience with him."

"Please, refer to me as Darien." She could see that he was furious, and Lita knew she was soon about to overstep her boundaries. His words with a command, and Lita could only obey, however begrudgingly.

"As you wish, Darien." Noticing Serena's puzzled look at their exchange, Lita forced a smile. "You must all be starving! Come, let us refresh our spirits and energy with some food."

She led them not to the dining hall but to the more intimate drawing room, where the plates were already set out on a square table. The four sat down, and at Lita's gesture, their meal was brought up.

"You may find that what I have arranged does not compare with the standards at the palace, but I hope you will have the kindness to indulge me just the same."

Lita waited for her guests to take a sip of the soup before picking up her own spoon. A small gasp to her right brought her to the attention of Serena.

"This is simply marvellous!" The girl's reaction was not isolated—from the corner of her eye, Lita saw the men nod in agreement. "Lita, is this a Sairellen specialty?"

She could not help but smile. "Actually, it has been passed down through many generations in our household. All of the dishes being served are from such recipes."

She turned to her left as Nephrite spoke. "Lady Serena is quite right. This soup is one of the most exquisite I have tasted in my life. It is difficult to imagine there are better cooks than those employed in the palace, but I stand corrected."

"Lady Lita," Darien said, "perhaps you would be so kind as to allow your chef to share the secrets of this soup? I am sure it will be appreciated by those who reside in the palace."

"I am sorry to disappoint you, Darien, but I am not sure whether I am willing to divulge such secrets."

Darien was not to be refused. "Is that not a matter to be decided by the one who concocted this dish?"

"You are speaking to her at the present moment." There was triumph in seeing him startled. "I am the one who has been primarily responsible for making the soup, and although I appreciate your high opinion, this is one secret I would not like to share and make public."

He held her gaze for a moment, having understood her anger and resentment. When she broke their eye contact, she glanced at Serena, hoping she was not disconcerted by the slight scene they were causing. Her cool expression told her she was not oblivious, but Lita was glad to see the girl's displeasure was not aimed at her. Darien, having noticed this too, spoke again.

"Please accept my apologies, Lady," he said, his voice surprisingly sincere. "I did not mean to cause any offense. It was incorrect of me to have made my assumptions, and I hope you will forgive me for my rudeness. It is a brilliant soup, and I am very much looking forward to trying these other dishes."

If it were not for knowing his façade, Lita would have softened and let the matter go in an instant. Instead, she only grew more livid, though she had little choice but to swallow her anger. "Let us not make too much of such an insignificant misunderstanding. It would be a great shame if we could not enjoy our time together due to animosity from such a trivial incident."

"Agreed." Darien lifted his glass, and Lita responded in kind. The water instantly cooled her thoughts and relaxed her limbs.

"I am sure it would not hurt to share some of the ingredients," Serena said in a light voice. "I doubt any harm can be done by naming a few herbs and spices."

"I suppose you are right," Lita replied in kind, "but I prefer to see the gentlemen squirm as they try to figure it out for themselves."

The tension turned into laughter as Nephrite choked on his mouthful at Lita's words. "I contest that statement," he said between coughs. "Women may spend their time over a table of herbs, but we men are the ones who provide the game."

"A whole lot of good that would do," Lita shot back, "without anyone to cook it."

"Ah, but there would at least be something to cook."

Still smiling, Lita turned away from Nephrite and towards Serena, her voice a theatrical whisper. "Perhaps our Lord Nephrite here is confident when his adversary is a wild boar, but he would surely be terrified if you place him into a kitchen."

"And what is so frightening about a kitchen," Nephrite asked, not even pretending that he had not heard.

"The same women who daintily sit around sorting through a table of herbs are also quite adept with their impressive set of knives. Would you like to go on a tour later, Lord Nephrite?"

There was more laughter at Nephrite's stunned silence, and Darien reached to pat the general. "My dear Nephrite, it seems you have lost your first battle against Lady Lita."

Not to be patronised, he playfully shoved Darien's hand away. "Your decision is largely biased by the Lady's beauty and talents. If anyone has lost a battle, it would have been _you_, my friend."

"You seem to have quite the advantage," Serena said to Lita. "I suppose the next victory would also be yours, if the gentlemen start fighting over the order of their losses."

"Now _that_ would definitely go to Darien," Nephrite replied instantly.

"My point made. Males are so easy to read."

Serena's comment brought on another round of laughter, and the four happily continued their meal. When they had taken the last bite and the table was cleared, Lita spoke.

"Lady Serena, I hope you are still interested in going for a ride this afternoon?"

Serena nodded. "That would be wonderful."

"I am pleased to hear it." She spoke to a servant, instructing him to saddle four of her best horses. "Although we have plenty of time, I wish to return before dusk. The nights can be rather cold, and I am sure we will all be grateful to take a bath after our ride."

"You have planned this very thoroughly," Serena said, eyes shining.

"I have received plenty of assistance." Lita cast a look at Nephrite, who gave a small bow. Then her eyes travelled to the Prince, his intensity and authority not lost to Lita. Not to be intimidated, Lita returned the look, until something shifted in his gaze, and the Prince tilted his head down, almost imperceptibly. Satisfied, she landed her eyes on Serena. "Let us go then."

* * *

The walk to the stables had been slow and leisurely, with Serena beside Lita, the men trailing behind them. Serena remarked on the structure of Lita's estate, a large building that stood among an impressive garden and lake. The conversation between them had been spirited and enjoyable, with credit due to Lita and her perceptive nature. The hostess had taken one look at Serena's shoes and proceeded to secure a pair of riding boots for the girl, much to Serena's relief. She had been slightly concerned about her lack of inappropriate attire, and did not feel it in her right to make a request to the older woman, however amenable she was. But all those worries had been for nothing.

As they approached the stables, Serena breathed in the familiar smell of horse and hay, a smile widening on her lips. She had loved to ride ever since she was little, and her blood started to race as the fine animals entered her sight. There were two stallions and a gelding, three powerful creatures, all looking at her with intelligent eyes. But it was the mare that caught her eye, the beautiful white mane illuminating the courtyard.

"Her name is Moonshadow," Lita said. She ran a hand along the horse, her expression fond. "See these dark patches in her mane?"

"She's gorgeous."

If Lita noticed the contraction Serena used in her speech, she did not show it. Instead, she laid a hand on Serena's shoulder. "She's yours for the day."

Lita left to speak to the men before Serena had a chance to thank her. The blonde placed her own hand on the horse and leaned towards it.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" she said softly. "I don't believe I've seen any other horses with your colour, your little grey patches. I hope your temperament matches your appearance."

The mare only looked back at her in response, her expression calm and patient. But Serena could see the strength in those muscles, the craving to be out among a long stretch of land. As if noticing the attention, Moonshadow gently tapped the ground with a foreleg. It was invitation enough for Serena.

Grabbing onto her mane, Serena propelled herself into the air, swinging a leg over the saddle. She had always enjoyed the view from astride a horse, but never had the trees looked greener, the sky bluer. Slipping her feet into the stirrups, she was pleased to find they did not need adjusting. She learned forward and patted her horse, her voice still quiet. "I think we're going to have quite a bit of fun today, Moonshadow."

So lost in her own thoughts, Serena was surprised when Nephrite's loud voice cut through the air. "Hey, she beat us to it!"

Serena pulled the reins to the left just in time to see Nephrite mounting his own horse, the brown stallion. He waited until the stablemaster had adjusted his stirrups before joining Serena. She flashed him a smile, and glanced over to see how Darien was doing.

She suddenly found it difficult to think. His stormy eyes were intently fixed on her as Darien swung himself onto his black stallion, a quick, fluid movement that was as graceful and natural to him as breathing. His muscles flexed from beneath his clothing, and from his glazed look and tousled hair, Serena imagined something else beneath him. Heat flooded through her body, and the thought of riding a horse beside him for hours on end suddenly terrified her. Desperate to escape, Serena tore her eyes away from Darien and kicked her horse into action.

She had not underestimated Moonshadow's power. It was as if the animal understood the cause of Serena's tension, and was merely waiting for a command. The canter relaxed them both, and Serena relished the wind against her as she became one with her horse, covering the grounds at a breakneck speed. The exhilaration played with her nerves until all she could hear was the blood pounding in her ears. But she knew that she had to stop, that she had already caused unintended offense to her hostess by breaking away without warning. She firmly pulled on the reins, slowing Moonshadow to a trot before turning her around. She was surprised to see Nephrite approaching them at a gallop, and waited until he reached them.

"Is everything alright?" Both Nephrite and his horse were breathless, and Serena felt the first onsets of guilt. "You frightened us all, by taking off like that."

It hurt to realise what he had insinuated. Nephrite paled at her reaction, and quickly shook his head.

"We did not know what had upset you, and were concerned that you might take a fall."

"There is no need to worry," she snapped. "I can keep myself on a horse as well as the rest of you."

"We did not know that for sure." Nephrite tried to smile. "Although I think you have asserted your skills quite well." He paused, searching her eyes with his own. "Is anything troubling you?"

Serena looked back at him, chin raised. "Not at all. I simply could not wait to take my horse for a ride."

She knew he doubted her words, but Nephrite had no choice. He nodded, and said, "I am relieved to hear it. And if you do wish to discuss anything, I am well at your service."

The understanding, the trust, hurt her more than what she thought were accusations. As she saw the other two riding towards them, Serena thought about Nephrite's initial words. The atmosphere may have been light and easy, but the underlying sense of danger was always there. What they were doing was treason, and the Prince would not allow them to go unharmed if he discovered the betrayal. In that moment when she launched herself into the unknown grounds before her, did they feel a surge of fear? Did they hear the crack of a whip splitting their skin, taste the sweat and blood that flowed in endless waves, while they were punished for their deeds? Would she have reacted the same way, if she were in their position?

Serena cursed herself under her breath. Their positions would never be reversed. Being empathetic served no purpose.

Lita and Darien had arrived, their horses in an unhurried trot. Their fears must have vanished when they saw she had stopped. Not daring to look in Darien's direction, Serena tried to smile at Lita.

"I apologise for having caused you concern," Serena said, eyes slightly downcast. "My eagerness had taken the better of me. I must commend you, Lita, for Moonshadow is indeed a magnificent creature."

"I am very happy to hear that," was Lita's reply. She glanced at Nephrite, who nodded in reassurance. "Well, now that we have all sufficiently warmed up, shall we go for a ride?"

"Ready as ever, Lady Lita." Nephrite's grin was back, and he leaned towards his horse, waiting to spring into action.

"Where did you ever get the idea that this was a race?"

Nephrite shrugged. "I'm male. Pathologically attuned to see everything as competition."

"You had better prepare yourself for the taste of defeat then, Lord Nephrite." Without another word, Lita kicked her gelding into a gallop, Nephrite not far behind. Darien's stallion was itching to join them, but his rider held his reins tight.

"Lady Serena?" His voice was liquid fire, his expression earnest, almost tender. He made no demands, only a gentle request.

"I am fine." There was no strength in her response, but her eyes held a silent plea. "Please, do not concern yourself."

They both knew he was not convinced, but she allowed him to study her a bit longer. The warmth and breathlessness returned when his eyes drank in her sight, unashamedly lingering over her body. She was suddenly self-conscious, and had to grip her reins to prevent her hands from reaching up to smooth her hair. She parted her mouth to let in more air; the movement was not lost to him. His eyes darkened, and when they locked with hers again, she found that she was trembling.

"You are quite the sight, my Lady."

And with that, he urged his horse forward, leaving Serena to wonder if the longing she heard was real.

* * *

The ride had brought her back to her spirits. Despite the fatigue that was creeping into her limbs, Serena felt more refreshed than she could remember being. Both she and Darien had caught up with Nephrite and Lita, where the two had decided to call their race a draw. Nephrite had declared that his chivalry had spared Lita from defeat, but judging from his heaving, Serena knew that the other woman had not given him an easy time. Lita then led them to a nearby lake, where the horses had a drink of water and were allowed to graze while their riders indulged in the pastries Lita had brought with her. The sounds of the running water lulled Serena into closing her eyes. She had never been so equally tired and awake in her life.

They had resumed their ride soon afterwards, and Serena and her horse broke into a full gallop. The sheer power and speed cleared her senses like nothing could, and Serena held onto the moment, tucking it away with the rest of her memories. Only when the day began to darken did she relent, taking her time to observe the differing shades of the sky. She heard the talk of the others slightly behind her, and Serena dismounted, whispering a quick word of thanks to Moonshadow. She surveyed the scene before her: the sun was making its last descent of the day, sending its rays to kiss the sky, burning everything it touched. But sight was rapidly slipping away – it would take only a few minutes, thirty at most, before all the warm colours would be overpowered by the dark blanket of the night.

It was then that she saw the moment for what it was. Perhaps her mixed agitation and clarity throughout the day was not unfounded, but signals from her unconscious mind, a part of her that reacted hours before the realisation struck. She took several breaths to calm herself, careful not to make any sudden movements to betray her intentions. Her recollections brought the well-worn road they had passed earlier to her mind, which according to her calculations, would only take a few minutes to reach. Lita had pointed out that a village famous for their blacksmiths was nearby to the south, about fifteen minutes on horseback. Serena was not familiar with the nearby terrain, but they had covered enough ground for her to have grasped a basic knowledge of the region. She would have to wait a bit longer for the darkness to settle, so that she would be more difficult to see. Her horse was tired from the day's riding, but Serena knew Moonshadow would hold. She was more concerned about the lightness of her mane that would surely shine in the moonlight and betray them, but that consideration only made one thing clearer to Serena: once she had decided upon a course of action, she must move swiftly without any delay.

A bout of laughter stopped her thoughts. The proximity of the sound urged Serena to make her decision, but the warmth of the sound, of the mixed voices let loose without restraint, caused her to hesitate. She knew her chances were slim. If she was caught, would they ever look at her in the same way again? Would they curse themselves for their foolishness, for having mindlessly indulged the whims of a girl they did not know and simply felt sorry for, when she repaid them by leaving them to their deaths? She had no doubts about it now – if they were caught, the Prince would not be kind enough to let them live. And in the moment when they realise the meaning behind her full-speed gallop for what it was, would they choose to fight against their Prince, or against her freedom?

She remembered the look on Nephrite's face when she had taken his concern as an accusation, and knew with painful clarity that the general would let her go. Nephrite had given her his friendship from the first moment they met, a selfless act that had brought her here. He would not stop her, even if it meant his own death. Lita, too, would not oppose her escape. If not for the warmth the Countess had been extending, her blatant defiance of the Prince at the ball told Serena about her alliance, provided her involvement would be divulged in the first place. Serena smiled bitterly as she saw, perhaps too late, the blossoming romance between Lita and the Nephrite; the general would do all in his power to prevent Lita from any harm.

And there was Darien. His promises, his embraces, his companionship on the brink of something more. He would protect her in every way possible, regardless of the consequences. He was already out of favour with the Prince for a trivial matter; the anger of having lost the Prince's precious prisoner would launch itself cruelties beyond Serena's imagination. A tear slipped down her cheek as she remembered every reluctant kiss, every accidental touch, every unspoken word they shared with their soul-bearing looks. Her resolution fell with her tears; she could not betray their trust, their love.

Closing her eyes to her decision, Serena turned away from freedom.

* * *

AN: Please review. :)


	11. Chapter 10

**As the Eagle Flies**

Another shiny chapter - hope you enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 10

Darien felt years younger as he ran a hand through his damp hair, and settled down at the dinner table. His bath had been welcome after the tiring day, and the dining table was elegantly set, yet gave off an informal atmosphere. The scent of the food wafting through the room made his mouth water, but it was not until he saw Serena, clad in a dark green dress, that his hunger turned into something more. He stood up from his seat and made his way towards the girl, while Nephrite moved towards Lita.

"Lady Serena," Darien said, holding Serena's hand gently in his, "you are looking quite extraordinary this evening." He kissed her hand, savouring the smooth skin beneath his mouth, and held a tight leash on his imagination. The look they had shared earlier and her consequent reactions meant little in the grand scheme of things.

He led her to the table, pulling out her seat for her. He waited until Lita had taken her seat before he allowed himself to settle.

"I hope you two have not been waiting too long," Lita said after she had gestured for the food to be brought out.

"It was a pleasure," Nephrite replied, "and certainly worth the while." The general glanced in Darien's direction, who was nodding in agreement.

The wine was poured, and as the hostess, Lita raised her glass to make a toast. "Thank you again for taking the time to join me this evening. In these turbulent times, it is rare to spend such an enjoyable day among close friends. Let us hope that this happy occasion will repeat in the near future!"

After they had all taken a sip, the wine luscious and rich, Lita spoke again. "And I would like to extend a few words to Lady Serena. I feel very blessed to be acquainted with one of such beauty, intelligence and compassion, and I cannot express how thankful I am that she is here with us today. Serena, I understand that you have your uncertainties, but please allow me to say this with heartfelt sincerity: welcome to Sairelle."

There was a pause, all attention on Serena. The girl seemed lost in her own thoughts for a few moments, before raising her glass and her voice. "I do not pretend to understand the customs that are upheld and valued in this country, but in Chiston, there is a tradition of making individual toasts when the occasion arises." At Lita's nod, she continued. "Nephrite, it is without a doubt that I would not be here if it was not for your initial friendship. Thank you for persevering with me, and for going to such lengths on my behalf. For a Shitennou, you're not all that bad."

She waited for Nephrite to raise his glass. "You're pretty decent too, for a Chistonian," he said. They both smiled, and drank their wine. When Serena's glass was filled, she lifted it again, this time to Lita.

"Lita, I find it hard to believe our first encounter was only two nights ago, largely thanks to the under-seasoned dishes that required the addition of pepper that just happened to be beyond my reach. Your honesty and empathy are some of the rare things that are still beautiful in this world. Thank you for not allowing your prejudices to determine your opinion of me, and for going to such great lengths to have me here. I am greatly indebted to you."

"And I'm glad we have witnesses here tonight; I'm sure I'll collect my debt someday." The two ladies' eyes shone as they drank.

Darien's heart sped up as the blonde's glass was filled yet again. She had politely avoided him since their brief exchange earlier, and he felt apprehensive at what she was about to say. A small drop of guilt started welling in his stomach as he thought of how little she knew. But then her eyes were on him, and it was too late.

"Darien, you have shown me so many wonderful things that I wouldn't have imagined to be possible. In your own quiet way, you have given me your support, and instilled in me a sense of hope that I thought had vanished completely. Thank you, for your patience and your continued regards for my well-being. I am undeserving of such consideration."

He should have been smug and victorious at her surrender, but Darien only felt sick, a bitter taste in his mouth. She was looking at him with those trusting cerulean eyes, and he almost wanted to shatter what she saw. But the urgency to respond pushed at him, and he raised a hand, the words rolling off his tongue like the wine that pooled in his glass.

"You deserve so much more than this, Serena." His own sincerity astounded him, and he found himself silently pleading for her to understand his meaning. But she only saw what she wanted to see, a continuation of the lie he had built for her, and there was only quiet acceptance that softened her eyes. Submitting himself to his fate, Darien drained his glass, the richness of the wine burning his throat, setting fire to a body that was already helpless. He stared at the thick scarlet liquid as it was poured for him again, hearing only the changing pitch of the wine as it flowed into the glass.

The silence that followed was numbing. Desperately, Darien cast a glance to Nephrite, who had been watching his liege intently. Darien almost sighed aloud at the recognition in Nephrite's expression.

"Thank you for sharing that with us, Lady Serena." Nephrite made a non-too-subtle gesture at her plate. "Now, I suppose you must be hungry?"

Serena laughed at the general's words, a light and warm sound that continued to ring in Darien's ears. She made a comment about how table manners differed between the two countries, but Darien had stopped paying attention. He managed to pick up his fork and knife, systematically cutting at the lamb that was in front of him. Even the delicate taste and the tenderness of the meat, though vaguely appreciated, did not coax him from his inner landscape. He could do little more than to chew his food and nod when appropriate, avoiding Serena's gaze when possible. The hotness built within him, and the more he thought of the guilt, the more he considered the reasons behind his thoughts, the more the anger grew. When the conversation drew to a halt and all faces were looking at him, Darien almost snapped in irritation.

Instead, he clenched his jaw, "What is it?"

Darien was thankful when Nephrite quickly cut through what Serena was about to say. "Are you feeling alright? You don't look particularly well."

He was glad he did not have to respond to Serena, and the knowledge in Nephrite's eyes gave Darien his answers. "I think our adventures today have wrung me dry. My apologies."

Nephrite nodded. "Dinner is almost finished. Perhaps we can retreat to the drawing room for a while before meeting the Ladies for dessert?" The last part of the question was directed at Lita.

"Certainly." She turned to Serena. "It is customary for the ladies and gentlemen to separate after dinner and have some time to talk with their own gender before reconvening for dessert and some light evening entertainment."

"Or you could return to your room," Nephrite suggested, "if the thought of a late night is too much for you to handle." Darien shot him a look that told the general exactly what he thought about _that_, causing Nephrite to chuckle. "No, I suppose such a blatant admission of your poor constitution is not an option."

Darien smiled half-heartedly at Nephrite's words, and rose to his feet. He glanced apologetically at Serena, and followed the General from the dining room, all the while trying to make sense of the sharp heat that would not leave him.

* * *

Nephrite kept his attention on Darien as they took their seats in the drawing room, around the same table where they had their lunch. The general knew that the laughter and warmth started and ended with Serena; now that they were alone, Nephrite was dealing with the Prince of Sairelle, a dangerous man, not to be trifled with. Nephrite had found the time and opportunity to relax during the day, but as he recognised Darien's shifting mood during dinner, the general's senses were sharpened. He was even more cautious now than in the Prince's private study; the easiness between the two had to be overlooked.

"Nephrite,"—the general tensed at the informal address—"I commend you on your quick thinking." There was no sarcasm in his voice, and the general could only bow. Nephrite was finding a way to response when the Prince laughed, a joyless sound that resembled a bark. "You must find this all incredibly amusing."

"Your Highness?"

The forced smile faded. "Do not use that again. Not here, not now."

Nephrite nodded. "I understand." There was no telling when he would slip, and the last thing the Prince wanted was for such an accident to occur in Serena's presence.

The Prince eyed his general, contemplating his next words. "Tell me, Nephrite, what did you expect when you knew about your involvement with this trip? I want your honest opinion, Nephrite."

The soft tone, free of malice, gave him hope. Nephrite had seen enough of the Prince in the past day, had known enough about the Prince in their shared childhood, to understand that he had been granted the permission to speak his thoughts without fearing the wrath of his liege. Darien had spoken with the same, quiet voice countless times when they were young, when the Prince valued the opinion of his friends more than his own.

"I could not form an opinion at first," Nephrite answered. "I knew you had gone to great lengths in order to deceive Lady Serena and have her believe you to be someone else, but I did not know your motives, or how you had achieved that. She has reason to be wary of everyone she encounters, and I knew from our first meeting that her defences would be hard to breach. I could not imagine your own pretences to successfully convince her of your act, but I was careful not to draw any hasty conclusions because I had not seen the two of you interact for extended periods of time. I knew I was going to trust my instincts, and I must admit that I had my reservations about your behaviour at first."

"At first." There was no condemnation, only acknowledgement. "And then? What did your instincts tell you?"

"That you _were_ Darien. Not just the name, but the _person_. Lady Serena has somehow managed to bring back the man you were before the Queen died and the King became mad."

"You give the girl too much credit, Nephrite." Darien's voice was strained and uncertain; and because of that uncertainty, they both knew he had proven himself wrong.

"She's special, Darien," Nephrite said gently. The comforting tone he had not used for years came to him naturally, and Nephrite remembered all the other times when he had spoken to Darien with the same warmth. "She shines with a strength and beauty that has prevailed despite what has happened to her and her family. You shouldn't be ashamed of how she has affected you."

"But I _am_ ashamed! Don't you see? This is how I've dealt with running the country, without disregarding my father's wishes. Why don't you show me someone who can take my place so I can stop being the heartless Prince you all hate? Tell me Nephrite, who else can do this?"

The general could only look away.

"No one. There is no other way. _That's_ why I'm ashamed. _That's_ why I can't allow you to sit here and tell me Serena is changing me."

Nephrite closed his eyes, massaging his temples. He had spent so many sleepless nights trying to make sense of Darien's sudden withdrawal all those years ago, had bitterly cursed through the nights after his friend emerged as the cold and distant Endymion; never had he found out why, until this very moment. And now, the discipline and hardship Darien had endured was all about to crumble under the look of one lady.

"That's not all that you're ashamed of, is it, Darien?"

The Prince let out a slow breath, a sound mingling with defeat. "No, it's not. I have other reasons to be ashamed."

Nephrite knew where those reasons laid, but he would not voice his suspicions, would not ask. He had formed his own theories from the moment Prince Endymion had called a meeting with the Shitennou after Tristone was captured and mentioned a girl who was lying unconscious in the Prince's private chambers. No one had doubts about Serena's importance, but only the Prince really knew what, and why. And looking beyond Darien's slouched figure to see his determination and authority, Nephrite knew he would not get his answers tonight.

Sighing, the general placed a hand on Darien's shoulder. "I'm here, if you ever want to talk to anyone." _If you can ever bring yourself to talk._

The Prince nodded. A question was still swimming in his eyes, and Nephrite waited patiently for it to be uttered. "She deserves so much more than me, doesn't she?"

It was a plea, not from a Prince but a man, for what comfort a friend could offer. Nephrite thought of the cruelty, thought of the games being played with Serena. Then he remembered the soft expressions, the smiles that finally reached the eyes, the ever-present fear of discovery.

"She deserves more than your lies." Darien's flash of pain hurt Nephrite just as much. "But Darien isn't a lie. Show her the truth of who you are, of the man you are, and give her what you can. The Prince is just one part of you, but don't let him get in the way. Don't hold yourself back, Darien."

"And when she finds out?"

It was not in Nephrite's place to ask when or how she would find out. "Then I will hope, for both your sakes, that the man is deserving of her."

As the Prince closed his eyes and considered the words, Nephrite took in the sight of the weary, unguarded man before him, and felt unbridled gratitude towards Serena for having brought Darien back. And for all their sakes, Nephrite prayed that his friend was here to stay.

* * *

"Men can be so stubborn sometimes," Serena said, as soon as the two had left the room. "If they're feeling tired, there should be no shame in getting some rest."

"They don't want to appear weak and 'womanly'," Lita replied with amusement, "especially when their female counterparts are feeling perfectly energetic and refreshed."

"That's not entirely true, for my legs are complaining quite incessantly at the moment. I'm glad to be sitting down."

"They don't have to know that." Lita winked at the younger woman, and they both chuckled. As the laughter subsided, Lita realised Serena's comment for what it was: a genuine concern for Darien's well-being. Despite the layers of protection the girl had erected around her, Serena had been caught in the very trap she had tried to avoid. But having experienced the charming side of the Prince herself, Lita knew how helpless Serena was in falling for Darien. Allowing her thoughts loose, Lita spoke again.

"Why are you so worried about Darien?"

Serena seemed startled by the question, though she quickly regained her composure. "I'm not really worried. I just hope he's not unwell."

"I'll take your word for it." Lita shrugged, and took a sip of her wine. It was a lovely pinot noir, one of her favourites, and it had gone very well with the lamb.

Serena narrowed her eyes. "Are you implying something?"

"No, not at all," Lita replied, inhaling the rich scent of the wine. She definitely needed to write a letter to her supplier and request more bottles to be kept for her.

"Really, there's nothing going on."

Serena's voice was slightly high-pitched, and Lita fought hard to keep her expression neutral, knowing her nonchalance would eventually instigate a response from the blonde. "I'm sure there isn't."

"And what if there was? I'm quite certain there have been many instances where two people of the opposite gender find themselves interested in one another."

_Not so often between a Prince who gave the order to destroy the girl's livelihood._

Lita raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean you _are_ interested?"

She saw the cage around her snap into place a moment too late. "That was very sly of you, Lady Lita."

"You're right," Lita replied. "My apologies." She gave Serena a few moments to compose herself, knowing the girl was berating herself for having let her guard down. Lita could almost hear Serena promising herself that it would not happen again, and she felt guilty for having to continue misleading her in what mattered, though they both were powerless to stop it.

"Pardon my rudeness," Lita spoke again, "but are you currently involved with anyone else?"

"I am, somewhat." From Serena's tone of voice, Lita knew the girl would be unwilling to divulge anything else.

"I suppose that could become a slight problem then…"

"Lita, I am not planning to pursue Darien in any way." Before Lita could respond, Serena played some of her own cards. "And what of you and Lord Nephrite?"

The sudden change of topic caught Lita off guard, and she coloured despite herself. "What of Lord Nephrite?"

"You don't expect me to believe all the remarks and stolen looks between the two of you today was usual for those of such a short acquaintance?"

"Stolen looks? Now what are you implying there, Lady Serena?"

The girl smiled. "Perhaps that term is incorrect, for the two of you have been very openly admiring each other all day."

"Serena!" The indignant exclamation hung between them for a heartbeat, before they both broke into laughter. When they finally calmed down, Lita looked at the girl again, her expression serious. "You must miss your family and friends. I lost my family when I was little. It was difficult, but I still had my daily comforts, the familiarity of home. I cannot imagine what it's been like for you."

Her heart went out to Serena as Lita saw the girl struggling against the resolutions she must have made to not trust these people who had taken away all that was important to her. Lita did not want to push—if Serena chose not to answer, then Lita would not bring up the topic again.

"It's like nothing you can ever imagine," Serena said quietly, almost brokenly. "I keep thinking back to that last day, the things I could have said and done but didn't. I don't think I even appreciated where I was at the time—all I could do was feel sorry for myself, because I was in a situation I didn't like, because I wasn't happy with all the petty little things I kept concerning myself with. I can't even remember the last thing I said to my mother, my father, my brother. I was in the library, trying to hide from the injustices of the world, reading _Pamela_. All I cared about was poor Pamela, falling right into Mr B's trap. And when it did happen, when the alarm was raised and those who fought fell into position, it was just so chaotic. People were running around, screaming, not knowing where to go or what to do. By then it was too late, we were already captured. I didn't even get to say goodbye to anyone. All I could do was watch them die. I cried, and I cried—that's all I could do. That's all I can ever do."

Serena angrily wiped her face and cursed the tears that would not stop falling. She did not sob, only breathed heavily as she tried to gather her control, but Lita saw through the strength, saw her shaking from her efforts. Rising from her seat, Lita moved to Serena, holding her arms out in a gentle invitation. The younger girl looked up, and for a heartbeat, Lita thought she would refuse and chain her emotions back into her body, but that moment passed, and lips trembling, Serena finally gave in to the sorrow that had buried itself into her heart.

Several minutes later, when the tears had run its course and the hiccups had subsided, Serena slowly shook her head. "That was not supposed to happen."

Lita shushed her. "It's okay, Serena. I'm here for you. Always."

The girl nodded, the acceptance passing easily between the two. Lita gave her a few more moments before speaking again.

"I think we should call it an evening. Come, I'll walk you to your room." They had already left the dining room and were halfway to the stairs, but that did not stop Serena from protesting.

"But the men—"

"They have plenty of ways to entertain themselves." She saw a movement from the corner of her eye, but Lita ignored it and continued to speak to Serena in a soothing tone. "I'll let them know your legs have been causing you grief, and remind them that you're not stupid and stubborn enough to not rest when you need it. I'm sure they'll understand."

She led Serena up the stairs, grateful that the girl did not see Nephrite when he left the drawing room. Lita continued to consol the girl, intent on her task of settling Serena into bed. She would deal with Nephrite later.

* * *

Nephrite was not surprised when Lita entered the dining room alone. The determination in her stride was enough to tell him that there was no room for negotiation—what the Countess wanted, she would have. Recalling the crumbling figure he saw that was once a strong woman, Nephrite approved of Lita's decision. Now it was only a matter of convincing Darien.

But Darien had not seen Serena's face or her trembles, had only left the drawing room in time to see Serena's back as she vanished into the hallways of the upper floor. The disappointment was evident on his face.

"Where is Lady Serena?" The calm voice was authoritative, and belonged to the Prince. Nephrite could not help sighing—it was going to be a tough battle.

"The Lady is feeling rather exhausted," Lita said in a similar tone, "and has retired for the night."

"I wish to see her." It was a command, issued by the Prince no one dared defy.

Lita curtsied slowly, but there was no deference in her eyes. "She is not to be disturbed."

"Do you realise what you are doing, Countess?"

Lita's hands were clenched, the only sign of her anger. "This land is my property, held in my name. It belongs to me. What you do among these walls is of my concern, and I will _not_ allow you to cause her any more distress than you already have."

The fear gripped Nephrite in a way that he had never experienced. What Lita said was correct of Sairellen law—but the Prince was above the law. The general reacted before he realised what he was doing, a firm hand on the Prince's arm.

"Darien, please reconsider." He pleaded to his friend, to the man who was not beyond empathising, beyond feeling. "Don't be so quick to forget your own words."

And to his relief, Darien relaxed, his cold glare turning into irritation. "The least she could've done was say goodnight."

Lita was about to say something, but Nephrite was not about to risk a confrontation starting between the two again. "How about some dessert, Darien? Lady Lita, what were your plans for the evening?"

"No." Darien's shortness surprised Nephrite. "I will retire to my room now. I'm sure the dessert would have been lovely."

He was halfway up the stairs before Nephrite registered what was happening. "Darien?"

"I need some time to myself," he replied. He paused in his ascent and turned around, his dark blue eyes piercing the general. "You have no need to worry; I always keep my word."

Darien disappeared, the sound of his footsteps slowly receding. Nephrite sighed, feeling a headache developing. He wanted nothing more than to climb up those stairs, have a drink or two, and fall into his own bed. But he felt Lita calmly waiting for an explanation, and Nephrite knew it would be rude not to provide his company tonight. For some reason, the thought of disappointing the woman beside him displeased him.

"Should I go make sure he's not heading straight for her room?" Lita was worried, and Nephrite shook his head at her bravery. Few would have dared speak to the Prince in the way she did today.

"That won't be necessary," he replied. "Darien will keep his word."

Lita shot him a sceptical look, but decided to remain silent. She seemed uncertain for a while, as if she was tossing between two ideas where the favourable option was rude and unacceptable. Nephrite couldn't help but sigh—the headache was well on its way.

"Would you like some dessert?" The suggestion was polite but restrained—so she had opted for the undesirable option after all.

"Lady Lita, I am well aware that I am rather dull and dim-witted in your eyes, and understand that you have been complacent with me for the sake of Serena. I greatly appreciate your offer, but please, don't force yourself on my behalf."

He didn't know why he was suddenly so agitated, but Lita's blanching did not help the matter. "You give yourself too much credit, Lord Nephrite." They were both enveloped in a moment of uncomfortable silence, each lost in their own set of thoughts and preconceptions, before Lita took a small step to shorten the gaping distance between them. "I would not have invited you if I did not enjoy your company."

The uncertainty was splayed across her features once again, but this time Nephrite was forced to reconsider his assumptions. Perhaps he had made the incorrect conclusion after being affected by the recent chain of events. He noticed they were standing in the middle of the main hallway, and realised wryly that their position must have contributed to her discomfort.

He tried to keep his voice light, though he felt a heaviness upon him that he had previously misattributed to a headache. "Perhaps some brandy might be more suitable for this occasion?"

Her confusion gave him a queer sense of delight. "What occasion?"

"Why, the very rare and honourable opportunity of being in my fabulous company, of course."

He knew his smile was arrogant, but there was enough humour in his voice for her not to take him seriously. The effect was almost immediate—Lita laughed, the pleasant sound warming Nephrite.

"Perhaps this rare occasion should be celebrated in my private study." Nephrite bowed, clearly leaving the choice to her. "I think I'll bypass the brandy and settle for some dessert wine."

"Anything you please, my lady." Nephrite was tempted to make a flourished gesture to emphasise his point, but caught himself at the last moment. Perhaps he should save his theatrics till later.

When Lita had finished relaying her instructions to her staff, she moved towards the stairs. "Lord Nephrite?"

"Lady Lita. Shall we?" He offered his arm and she took it, a light pressure that made his heart skip a beat. Not trusting himself to make any judgements, Nephrite flashed her a smile before they climbed the stairs together.

He did not speak as they walked through the corridors, afraid that their voices might carry and disturb those who were sleeping, and he stood silently as Lita opened the door to her suite of rooms, leading him to her study. Nephrite had been to many of these private sanctuaries in his lifetime, and he had expected the same masculinity, the dark pieces of furniture and a large desk among the shelves of books. He had briefly wondered if Lita's personal space would have been any different, but had quickly disregarded the thought—after all, studies were studies, right? Now, as he looked at the soft couches and the glowing fireplace illuminating the white walls, he almost thought they had walked into the wrong room. A closer observation revealed the desk, study-looking piece that was made of sandalwood, the rows of books that were lined against one wall, their spines unevenly aligned. A waterlily painting hung beside the bookshelf, the colours bright and mesmerising. The room was not what he expected, but Nephrite certainly appreciated the décor.

"Does my study meet your approval, Lord Nephrite?" Her expression was unreadable, but he knew he had to provide an honest reply.

"It wasn't quite what I expected," he said, "but I find it very charming in its own way."

She nodded, gesturing to the couches that faced the fireplace. He had barely sat down when a knock was heard, and their drinks were brought in. He thankfully took his brandy as Lita took her own wine, and they waited for the fire to be adjusted. The nights were getting chilly, and Nephrite was glad to be inside.

They spent a few minutes sipping their drinks in silence. Nephrite allowed the alcohol to warm him, travelling through his limbs in its familiar way, loosening his muscles. The pounding in his head subsided, and Nephrite smiled, feeling content with his situation.

"I must thank you yet again for allowing us to stay here," he said. His voice had a rough edge, though it was strangely mellow at the same time. "I don't believe I've had such a fine time before."

"It really has been my pleasure. Serena is a delightful lady, and I'm very grateful for her friendship."

The topic of Serena would have made him tense under normal circumstances, but the brandy had made him fluid, more relaxed. He felt the boundaries he had set for himself expand a little, and didn't hesitate to speak his thoughts. "As I'm grateful for your friendship towards her. I cannot imagine what she has had to endure, and it pains me to see her so unable to express herself."

The amusement vanished in her eyes, and Nephrite saw the strong, determined woman return. He appreciated the loyalty on Serena's behalf, but found the transformation to be slightly disconcerting.

"You saw her, before I led her upstairs."

It was a statement and he was not obliged to answer, but Nephrite nodded anyway. "I saw her. It pained me beyond words."

"And yet you continue to defend he who is responsible for her suffering."

"You do not know who's responsible, Lady Lita, and I trust you not to make such judgements without the knowledge."

The look she gave him could slice anything. "I am not so naïve, Lord Nephrite. I understand that you have your loyalties, and I would appreciate it if you would respect mine."

The few moments of relaxation disappeared. Why was the woman so stubborn? "The situation is not entirely as it seems."

"Oh? Are you telling me that Prince Endymion did not order an attack on Tristone, and that he is not deliberately deceiving Serena by disguising himself as this 'Darien'?"

Nephrite sighed, feeling torn. So it would be about this, again. "As I have told you yesterday, Darien _is_ the Prince. All his closest friends refer to him as thus, and he is more of a man than Prince Endymion can ever expect to be."

"Telling me this is meaningless," she said, her chin defiantly raised. "Serena does not know, and there lies the crux of my dissatisfaction."

"Not everything benefits from being revealed immediately, Lita."

"Your Prince is certainly benefiting from the extent of this deception."

"Do not forget, he is also your Prince." Discussing this extreme difference of opinion frustrated Nephrite, but he refused to give in until his side was heard.

"I was never personally acquainted with him, and up until now, he has only served as a symbol. I may be bound to him by law, but I do not serve him."

Nephrite shook his head; this woman was impossible! He drained his fourth tumbler of brandy, fiercely embracing the burning sensations. "Let's put aside this minor detail for a moment, as difficult as it may seem, and talk about Darien. You must have found him tolerable to some extent."

Lita hesitated, and Nephrite swallowed a cry of triumph. "He may be not insufferable, but it was all an act."

"No. It was real." He considered her for a moment, remembering the way the four of them had all laughed together. "Despite your grudges, you believe it too, at least to some extent."

"I cannot deny that," she replied slowly, "but the fact still stands that he is using Serena to achieve some of his larger goals."

He admired her honesty, and could only respond in kind. "The Prince has responsibilities, and they must be fulfilled in the way he best sees fit. However, the agenda he goes by now is far from matters of the state."

He was glad she understood his meaning, for he was already on the verge of betraying Darien's trust. Although the last thing he wanted to do after re-establishing their friendship was to speak of Darien to almost complete strangers, Nephrite had a feeling that showing Lita the other side of the story would be important. Perhaps it was due to her already close bond with Serena. Or perhaps, it was something more, a need for honesty and approval that he couldn't quite explain…

Lita took a slow sip of her wine, taking her time to savour the taste. She had reached her conclusion about Darien, and Nephrite found himself slightly uneasy at the thought of what she might say next. "It must be difficult being in your position."

He heard the unspoken question of why, and did not hesitate to answer. "I cherish both Darien and Serena's friendships," he said. "And although we have not been acquainted for long, I hope I still have your good opinion."

"You do." He waited for more words but they did not come; instead, Lita was looking at the glass between her fingers, swirling the pale liquid within. Her uncertainty had returned, the same flickering of the eyes, the two options she was mentally going over. But he wasn't so sure what those two choices were, and could only wonder at why she was being so affected by needing to make a decision. He understood her reservations at the foot of the stairwell while they were alone, but what could possibly have caused the need for this re-evaluation, when they were happily settled in her study and the situation was so vastly different?

And then he saw it, the slight trembling of her lower lip as she tried to keep her breaths steady and even. It was not so different, this situation and the last, and the choices had been the same. Perhaps she had hoped he would come to an earlier realisation, but her stubbornness and strength of character had overshadowed the patience and restraint. Had it always been this way with her? Did those in her company always overlook the attention she deserved most, needed most? He had been so preoccupied with his attempts to ensure both Darien and Serena were satisfied, that the realisation had eluded him, until now.

If she could not make the decision, then he would do it. His own headaches and the surges of warmth suddenly made sense, and he cursed himself for his own lack of perception. Slowly, not to frighten her, Nephrite eased towards her, lifting the glass from her hand and setting it gently on the table beside them. Her fingers were slightly cool, but he refrained from touching them again, and looked into her dark brown eyes.

"I forgot to mention earlier," he said softly, almost in a whisper, "but I don't believe I've met such a fine lady, either."

Her smile was enough of an invitation. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers, marvelling at their softness. He drew back slowly, only to find her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her as their lips met again. She tasted like the sweet citrus wine she had just drank, and when she opened her mouth for him, he explored in lazy, languish strokes, causing her to moan with an urgency that made his blood race. The feel of her tightened grip on his shoulders heightened his own sense of want, sending them half-sprawled on the couch. Knowing that he preferred to take his advances somewhere more private, he broke their kiss, drawing away from her just enough so that he could feel her every ragged breath.

"Is there another room you would like me to see?"

Her eyes were lit with a fire that excited him, and he bit back a groan when she pushed him off and took him by the hand. He stopped them midway, pushing her against the wall and resuming their kisses, his hips thrusting against hers. She returned his kisses with equal fervour, until she pushed him back again, this time with more force, a snarl forming on her lips. There was no gentleness as she dragged him into her bedroom, and they tugged at each other's clothing as they made their way towards the bed. The fire consumed him when he finally buried himself within her, sending them both tumbling into waves of molten gold.

* * *

AN: Please review. :)


	12. Chapter 11

**As the Eagle Flies**

This chapter is a fair deal longer than the previous ones, and I have a feeling it won't be a one-time occurrence. XD The poem mentioned in this chapter is 'Caedmon's Hymn', which you can find in Chapter 4. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 11

It was still dark when Serena stepped outside. She was exhausted enough the night before that the clean sheets and the soft mattress lulled her to sleep, deeply, dreamlessly, and she had awoken feeling more refreshed than ever. She knew she would not have been able to fall back asleep, and dressed warmly before she changed her mind. She met no restraint as she greeted the few of Lita's staff who were awake at that hour, and the footman had been very courteous when he showed her to the gardens. He bowed graciously when Serena thanked him, and she smiled at these small gestures she had missed so much.

She absently walked around the garden, her fingers lightly brushing the flowers that were still in bloom. Every now and then a plant would catch her attention, but for the most part, her gaze was cast upward at the diming stars, the crescent moon, the dark blanket of night slowly making its way for dawn. The sky never seemed as vast and all-seeing as it did now, the blend of light and darkness that was so completely out of her reach. She smiled at the thought, taking comfort in the knowledge that it belonged equally to everyone, no matter what little they may have in this world. And at that moment, she was content to simply experience this when so many others were still inside, fast asleep. It almost felt as if she could stake her claim in this calm moment that was not yet morning.

But the colours of day were already seeping in, and Serena knew she could not keep the sky to herself for long. She lowered her head at the thought of returning to the palace, where she had to be curbed. Briefly she thought of the day before, of the decision she had been forced to make. Even if more opportunities presented themselves in the future, Serena knew she could not escape—she had established too many ties. She did not need the scenes to be played out before her anymore—she knew with a certainty from both her mind and heart that these three people could be trusted, and she owed them what little she could give.

Serena had made her way to a small corner of the garden, and a sweet velvety scent now brought her back to her surroundings. She saw, to her surprise and delight, the flowers that bloomed in the bushes before her. They were of more colours than she had encountered in Chiston, larger and more fragrant by far. Even in the low light Serena could make out the deep red of the roses, their petals gleaming with dew. Amazed by her discovery, she reached towards it.

"Careful there."

The voice nearly made her jump, and though she quickly gathered her wits, her heart continued to beat in an erratic fashion. She had not heard Darien approach her, but he was barely a few steps away, his dark eyes looking straight at her. He moved towards her before she could react.

"These roses have quite an impressive set of thorns; I doubt you'd want a few nasty cuts or scratches." He bent down, surveying the flowers for a moment before carefully reaching for the blossom. His movements were steady and sure, his fingers deft as he evaded the thorns and broke the stem. Smiling, he held out the flower to Serena. "For the Lady."

Their fingers brushed as she took the rose, and Serena felt a shiver that was not from the cool air. She closed her eyes and allowed the sweet scent of the flower wash through her like a cleansing tide. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They stood there in silence, surrounded by the soft fragrance and the early morning. A glance at Darien told her that he was just as content to be enjoying the moment without any words, and Serena allowed herself to relax. It was nice, having this understanding, this presence of the other, their thoughts just within reach. It was not as if they did not have anything to talk about—Serena wondered about how he had slept, the reasons behind him being awake so early, whether the roses were as rare a species in Sairelle as it was back home. But these questions seemed meaningless at the moment, and not enough justification to break what they were sharing, the indescribable feeling of belonging.

So she let her arms drop to her side, a hand casually reaching for his. He showed no surprise at the brief touch, but Serena heard the quickened breathing in the air. She flexed a few fingers, enjoying the sensation of his warmth as they brushed against his skin. The small movement, the hesitation and uncertainty, gave him a chance to think, to react. His hand moved towards hers in a decided path that had only one destination. It found what he sought, and Serena shivered when his heat wrapped around her cool fingers, entwining with hers as if it was his job to warm her up. Their hands interlocked, Serena and Darien watched the last whispers of the night fall away, giving its reins to the light pink that kissed the edge of the horizon. The sun made its appearance, the ball of glowing fire making its swift ascent into the sky as it claimed ownership over the world.

Only when the sky had completely been cleared of the hues that followed the sun did Darien give Serena's hand a gentle tug, and she looked at him with a comprehension that stemmed from somewhere within before she wordlessly followed his lead and went back inside.

* * *

Their parting was a dispirited affair. Serena made no remarks or protests when Nephrite declared that they should start heading back. Just as the day before had been light-hearted and easy, this had been the exact opposite, the tenseness wafting in the air almost as if it had a life of its own. Darien could only stand aside and watch the exchanges between Serena and Lita, not knowing if he could assist in any way. He bit back the urge to make a public suggestion to Nephrite that perhaps they could stay longer, for the Prince was to be gone for a week, but he knew the precautions had to be kept. The lie had to be lived out through to the end.

"Don't be so glum, Serena," Lita had been saying, "it is not as if we won't see each other again."

"I suppose you're right…" The girl glanced over to Nephrite, a hopeful look, and Darien clenched his fist, willing himself not to interfere.

"I'm sure we can repeat trips similar to this one," Nephrite replied. "And I'm sure Lady Lita is more than happy to make her way to the palace at anytime. She would be more than welcome."

Darien saw the brief exchange between the two, the obvious grin on Nephrite's face and the blush that began on Lita's. He had a feeling a guest room would not need to be prepared when the Countess visited.

"Indeed, the Lady is welcome." Darien smiled at the two, content with the flicker of understanding in Nephrite's eyes.

Lita had turned to Serena again. "Write to me, will you? I would love to receive the mighty Shitennou Lord Nephrite as a letter deliverer."

Serena nodded. "I shall." She accepted Darien's offered hand, and climbed into the carriage. "Take care, Lita."

Her words had a finality to it that sliced through Darien's heart. Serena had turned away before he could study her expression, but he already knew what was bothering her—she did not expect to see the Countess again. His jaw hard, Darien gave a curt nod to Lita and disappeared into the carriage. He would make sure the ladies would meet again.

He gave a command to Nephrite, who spurred the horses into motion. Serena waved goodbye to Lita from the small window, and when they had passed the main gates, Serena settled back into her seat. For the next few minutes the only sound that passed between them was the even rhythm of the horses' gait and the creaking of the wheels as they rolled across the dirt. Remembering the quiet dawn they had shared only hours before, Darien reached for Serena's hand, and was rewarded with a glance, a small smile. Hands entwined, they rode on in silence.

* * *

Her set of rooms at the palace felt more like a prison cell than it ever had before. It might have been several times more spacious than the guest room she was given at Lita's estate, but it had none of the comforts that made Lita's place a home. Looking around the tidy, well-decorated room with its vases of flowers and expensive linens, Serena thought that something was missing. The room seemed to have never held audience to laughter, only the tears and pains of herself, of those who had come before her. Briefly Serena wondered exactly who had occupied these suites before her. Had they felt as trapped, as helpless, despite the fineries? She would have to pry the answer out of Nephrite or Darien.

She was not surprised to see Mina, who had no doubt waited for her return, in the large dining room. The girl looked relieved to see Serena, and quickly rose to her feet.

"Miss, I am glad that you are well!" Mina held out her hands for Serena's coat, and she quickly removed it. "I was worried that you might get caught."

Serena frowned at the thought. "Has anyone visited in my absence?"

"Lady Rachael came by, but she left when she realised you were not here." Mina hung Serena's coat, and made sure Serena was seated before ringing for a servant.

"Rachael? What did she want? What did you tell her?"

"The Lady asked for you, and when I told her you were not available in your room, she walked away."

Serena doubted the fiery woman would have simply walked away and attended to her own business without any suspicions as to her whereabouts, but nothing could be done now. The memories of their last exchange and Rachael's unexpected defence at the ball resurfaced, and she wondered how Rachael could be contacted. She would have to ask Nephrite and Darien about that too.

"Did you enjoy yourself in the last two days?"

Serena smiled at the sincerity of the girl. "I did, very much. Perhaps you could come with us next time." She wasn't sure of the logistics, but the horror on Mina's face made Serena wince.

"Please do not say things like that," Mina said, her eyes wide. "If they ever found out, they would punish the both of us."

Serena knew better than to argue, so she directed Mina to another question. "Mina, would you know where I might acquire some writing instruments and parchment?"

The girl nodded and left the room, reappearing moments later with Serena's request. She laid them on the table, and Serena touched the items with interest. The parchment was thick and rough, and the quills well-balanced. She removed the lid from the bottle of black ink and dipped the nib, testing the instrument against the paper. The ink flowed steadily without fault and the scratching, although harsh, was enough to ensure the control over her script. Satisfied, she turned to thank Mina and ask for some moments of privacy.

"As you wish," the girl said through her curtsy. "Would you like me to interrupt you when dinner is ready?"

She thought of the delicious meals Lita had arranged for them, and doubted the food here would be half as good. "That will not be necessary," Serena replied. "I will call you when I am ready to eat."

She heard Mina leave the room and softly close the door. Taking a deep breath, Serena waited for her thoughts to settle before dipping her quill into the inkwell and began to write her letter.

* * *

Darien did not expect to find himself with Mina when he entered the main entertaining area of Serena's room. The blonde girl was dressed in the simple uniform of the maids around the palace, so far removed from the usual silks and laces Mina preferred. She quickly masked her surprise at seeing him so informally dressed, and gave a low curtsy, addressing him in softly.

"Your Highness, it is a great honour to have you here."

The cultivated voice made Darien slightly uneasy, but he was sure Mina's demeanour changed when in Serena's presence. He waved an arm, and she rose back to her feet. "When I am in these rooms, I am Darien, not the Prince. I had expected Lord Kunzite to have mentioned such details to you."

Mina curtsied again. "Only in passing, Your Highness. Lord Kunzite and I have not had much opportunity to meet as of late."

"I appreciate your services, Lady Mina, and I am sure you will do well to remember that I am only Darien here." His tone was harsh, impatient, and there was no room for debate.

"I understand, Darien."

Darien scanned the room, his gaze lingering over the doors that led to the bedroom. "Is she awake?"

"And why must you presume that a lady cannot function after an outing without taking their infamous naps?" The hint of sarcasm was not lost, and Darien found himself once again approving of Kunzite's choice of feminine company.

"I am also under the presumption that the primary task in your assignment is to observe."

Mina dipped to the floor again, the curtsy short and graceful. "The lady I am serving is likely to end with a great number of questions, if her serving maid did not interact with her at all."

"Ah, so you are recalling the lessons you have learnt from the first score of your life."

"One does not forget the basics, Lord Darien. Even Lord Kunzite's preferences have not dulled the instincts that have been bred through years of servitude."

Darien let out a chuckle, and Mina curtsied again, smiling. She had always been in favour with the Prince as well as the rest of the Shitennou, and Darien found himself nodding at her diplomacy and quick wits.

"Lady Mina, it has always astounded me that one with such an upbringing as yourself has manifested into such a graceful, eloquent lady who can put a well-bred noble to shame."

"You are giving me more credit than I deserve," Mina replied, her blue eyes twinkling. "It is my former mistress and her insistence upon my education that you should pay homage to."

"Perhaps we should pay our respects together," Darien said. He let his last words hang in the air, giving them both a few moments before rephrasing his previous question, seeking the answer he most wanted to know. "I gather, from your earlier response, that Lady Serena is currently awake and ready to embark on her next adventure without needing to recover from her last. However, the strongest of us still have a tendency to find ourselves powerless against the tantalising thoughts of food, and I was wondering whether you would be so kind as to tell me if she has eaten her evening meal?"

He could tell she was surprised at his choice of words, at the roundabout way he had asked the question when the Prince could have simply demanded the answer. But as always, Mina quickly gathered herself, providing him with a straightforward answer: "No, she has not."

"Well then, I have arranged for a meal to be prepared for us, and I would greatly appreciate if you could see that it is delivered onto a properly set table."

"She is currently using the dining table."

Darien raised an eyebrow. "I thought you had said she has not yet dined?"

"A table can be used for more than one purpose, Lord Darien. It is perhaps only males who are so single-minded in their intentions."

He suddenly moved closer to her, his fingers tracing the contours of her cheek. Although Mina was used to the Prince's flirting, he saw the tiniest trace of fear. Smiling at the response, he bent down, his lips sweeping across her hair before breathing into her ear.

"I'm sure I can find another use. Would you like to assist me in my explorations?" She shuddered noticeably, and Darien drew back, a gleam in his eyes. "Such blatant rejection. At least I can inform Lord Kunzite that I tried."

"Your Highness?"

"Darien," he corrected, smiling—her voice was shaky.

"She does not wish to be disturbed."

"We shall see about that, Lady Mina." He took a few steps towards the dining room, and paused, turning back. "After you fetch the food, you may have the evening off. I believe you will find Kunzite in his chambers."

"I thank you for your consideration." His words seemed to have given Mina her strength, and her wits returned. "I wish you all the best in convincing Lady Serena to participate in your experiments on the dining table."

Darien stared at Mina, feeling his calm being replaced by disarrayed thoughts, the images of Serena beneath him, supple and willing. His jaw tightened, and the anger rose at Mina's audacity.

But the girl simply made one last curtsy and looked him in the eye. "My powers of observation have served me well during this assignment." She left the room without another word.

Darien did not know how long he had stood rooted to his position, muscles tense from the whirlpool of rage and desire. He tried to leash them before his emotions could take rein, but the teasing flashes made it impossible for him to think of anything other than the feel of Serena's skin, her full lips as she wet them, the curve where her shoulder met her neck, her silky, golden tresses intoxicating him with her scent as he buried himself, deep and hot, in a place that only belonged to him.

It was the sound of moving furniture that brought him back to his surroundings, and he did his best to compose himself before the soft footsteps drew closer and the door closest to him was opened.

"Mina, would it be possible to—" Serena froze when she met Darien's intense gaze. He couldn't help but feel smug at how she seemed to have just as enough trouble collecting herself. "Darien, what a lovely surprise!"

"I asked Mina to see if dinner is ready to be brought to your room," he said mildly. "Is there something you need her for?"

She shook her head, and Darien noticed the folded parchment in her hands. "Actually, I was going to ask her to find you. I have a letter here that I would like to seal and deliver to Lita."

The thought of Serena, writing to Lita in confidence, unnerved him more than it should have. He quickly dismissed the jealousy. "Is there no wax?"

"Mina brought me the wax, along with a very sturdy set of quills, but I have no seal."

"That shouldn't be a problem." He gestured into the room. "Shall we?"

He followed her into the dining room, clenching his fist as he saw the table, and looked at the scraps of parchment that she had tested the quills on. She had mostly written her own name, but it was the elegant cursive that caught his attention. Her writing was not without faults, a sign that she did not take her handwriting lessons seriously, but the assured loops and the sloped letters said much about her stubbornness, of how her writing was seen as a necessity, a way of communication, rather than an art form to be perfected. He tucked this piece of information away and reached for the wax stick.

"Would you please pass me a candle?" Serena quickly compiled, reaching for the nearest candelabra. She handed him her letter, already folded and ready to be sealed, and he carefully melted the wax, letting it run onto the parchment where the end of the flap met the rest of the letter. When the softened wax had become an irregular crimson circle, he set the candelabra onto the table and withdrew the gold ring he always kept with him. He pressed the stamp into the wax, waiting for the slight hardening before lifting his ring. The seal was of an eagle, wings outstretched. He wordlessly returned the letter to Serena.

"Could you possibly…?"

He was surprised by the hesitancy in her request, but betrayed none of it and only nodded in understanding. "I will see that it is delivered."

Serena smiled, and Darien felt the heat return. "Thank you, Darien."

He was looking for his next words when a knock sounded on the door, and Serena quickly went to open it. Mina entered, casting him a quick glance before busying herself with clearing the table.

Serena reached the parchment and the writing box before Mina. "I would like to hold onto these," she said.

"Of course, miss." Mina's voice was meek and quiet, holding none of its lustrous qualities. He barely had time to register the difference—the parchment and letter had given him an idea.

Serena saw his smile and looked at him questioningly. "Darien?"

"Come, let's eat our dinner." He pulled out a chair for her as Mina brought the food in, the aroma appealing to his empty stomach. The unexpected rush of excitement seemed to override his hunger, and Darien felt his anticipation at her reaction. He knew he had read her correctly and she would like it, but Darien yearned to see the expression on her face.

"Darien, you're grinning like Nephrite. What's so funny?"

He tried to keep his tone calm, but it still sounded light and cheerful to his own ears. "Just eat your dinner. And afterwards…well, you'll just have to wait and find out."

"What does that mean?" Her voice was almost shrill, like a flute in its upper register. "Darien, tell me!"

He pleasantly commented on the soup, and made an unsuccessful attempt to divert her attention. As they ate their meal, Darien hoped that Serena would like the surprise that was in store for her.

* * *

"I still think he is utterly obscene. Perhaps some can find an element of humour in the situation, but I do not believe these attempts to induce laughter are in any way successful in directing our attention away from all the lewdness. In fact, I would like to suggest that it is these attempts at creating a light-hearted mood when such bawdy behaviour is taking place only serves to increase its obscenity."

Amelia was pleased when she saw the General hesitate at her passionate declaration. The words and the force with which she presented them was slightly uncharacteristic, but she was desperate for her opinion to be taken seriously—judging from the sudden furrowing of eyebrows, Amelia knew that he was considering her point.

"I can see what you are trying to say," Zoisite said slowly, "but the fact still remains that his intentions were partially to provide amusement and entertainment."

Amelia inhaled and exhaled to calm herself, a practise she was familiar with. "Yet he carries them out in an obscene fashion. There is nothing polite or well-mannered about Fielding's depictions."

"If your argument is that _Joseph Andrews_ is an obscene text, then I believe you should admit that _Pamela_ is similarly so."

That struck a nerve. "Richardson is nowhere near obscene. He is a master of portraying delicate subjects with finesse and care—"

"As is Fielding."

"—and needs not resort to childish theatrics like Fielding when dealing with such issues."

"So what you really wish to discuss is the intention of the authors rather than the texts themselves."

Amelia narrowed her eyes. "The intentions are found to be expressed in the texts. One cannot simply discuss the 'intentions' without looking at the texts."

"Where _Joseph Andrews_ is base comedy and _Pamela_ is a highly cultivated art form."

Amelia smiled. "Precisely."

Zoisite leaned back on his chair, clearly exasperated. "I suppose any hope of reaching a mutual agreement tonight is impossible?"

"Unless, of course, you care to reconsider my perspective."

Zoisite laughed, though the sound was not entirely at ease. "Lady Amelia, for all your meek persona and intelligence, you can be one very thick, very stubborn lady."

Amelia could not help but blush at his words, which prompted him to chuckle, this time a sound full of warmth. Her blush only deepened, and Amelia took a sip of her water, silently berating herself for having spoken up. It would have been a lot more comfortable if she simply listened to his thoughts and be spared from being the centre of his attention. She wondered again why he was here, why the busy General had agreed to spend the little free time he had with her, poring over questionable novels and arguing over which one was more inappropriate, when the answer was rather obvious.

Following her train of thought, she could not help but mutter, "I suppose nothing can be more lewd and bawdy than Cleland. His…_veracity_ puts all of them to shame."

Zoisite laughed, the light sound echoing through the room. "I believe you have found something we can both agree on. Although…I believe I am missing my copy of _Fanny Hill_. You don't suppose…?"

Amelia gave him a mortified look.

"No, I don't suppose. My apologies, Lady." He seemed concentrated in thought, the few moments broken with realisation, followed by some muttering of his own. "Nephrite. He said he had to 'educate' Jadeite…"

Watching the General shaking his head in discomfort, Amelia could not help but be somewhat intrigued. The words left her before she had a chance to think. "May I ask why you had a copy in the first place?"

Amelia was sure that the mortified look Zoisite now had mirrored her own. She quickly ducked her head, avoiding his gaze.

"Well, you see, it is because…" He swallowed, and shifted in his seat. "It is a rare book and I happen to be a collector."

Amelia nodded, not daring to process his answer; she had done enough damage for the day. She pretended to find a particular passage of a book—though she had no idea which—suddenly very interesting and worthy of her study, and stared at it intently for a few moments. Her cheeks flared again as she realised their discussion for the evening was probably over, and the most appropriate thing she could do was thank the General for his time and leave the room. But somehow she could not comprehend the fact that Zoisite, the civilised mentor she had looked up to for years, was in possession of the most explicit novel in the history of written literature, whose main plot consisted of the debauchery and consequent adventures of a fourteen year old girl.

It was not all that unexpected, really. Amelia knew that men had needs, that men, no matter how intelligent and courteous, were still male, with their male urges and appetites. It was just too much for Amelia to think of Zoisite as one of those males, who had obviously read and indulged in a book. A banned book.

Zoisite sighed, a strained sound that disconcerted her more. "I am sorry if I have offended you in any way…"

Amelia could only shake her head, her eyes still on the book in front of her. She did not even know what language the text was written in. "No, you have caused no offense, I am simply feeling slightly…" _Uncomfortable. And thinking about you in a way that is clearly detrimental to my wellbeing._

The main door opened, and Amelia breathed a quiet sigh of relief at the interruption. They both straightened in their seats and made work of rearranging their reading material into neat piles. They were sitting at the large table that was far from the entrance and it would take a few more moments for the newcomers to notice their presence. Amelia could make out two sets of footsteps, but strangely enough, there was no sign of any talking. She was about to rise from her seat and greet the two when she heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by a clear, melodious voice.

"Oh Darien! This is amazing!"

Amelia recognised that voice, recognised the lilting accent that was not from Sairelle. But she did not recognise the name, though she saw Zoisite tense visibly from the corner of her eyes.

"Do you like it?"

Amelia fought hard to keep her breathing steady. She could recognise that deep, cultured voice anywhere. She did not know why it sounded somewhat different, warm and breathless as if he was anticipating her response, with none of the usual coolness that delivered countless orders. What was the Prince doing here?

Amelia did not want to think about the consequences when the Prince realised she and Zoisite were sitting here in silence, listening to the Prince's conversations. Determined to announce her presence, Amelia braced herself against the table, ready to rise to her feet.

She did not contain her surprise when Zoisite's cool hand covered her own. His own expression was a desperate, silent plea for her to remain seated. Her heart began to pound against her chest, and the fingers of Amelia's free hand twitched, wanting to feel her own pulse to confirm that she was simply experiencing a mild case of shock.

In the next moment Zoisite was so close to her that she could feel his breath on her face. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her swimming head enough to comprehend his urgent words, no louder than a murmur. "Listen to me, Amelia. You must not address him as Prince Endymion. He is Darien, Master of the Eagles and a close friend of the Shitennou. Do not show any more reverence to him than you would me. You must do as I say. Do you understand me, Amelia?"

She nodded, the palpitations increasing until she could not pinpoint the source of her erratically beating heart. Fear, confusion, excitement? There was no time for answers.

The Prince had spotted them at the same moment Zoisite pulled away, his hand drawn back as if it had been stung. Amelia could not fathom the calm expression on the General's face, and struggled to maintain her own composure. Noting her hands were trembling, she quickly took them off the table, cradling them beneath the table in her lap.

"Have we interrupted something?" the Prince asked, his voice with a touch of concern. Amelia kept her gaze on her books, still not daring to look at the Prince.

Zoisite rose to his feet in a quick movement, and Amelia stumbled in suit. "Darien, you must not make such jokes at the expense of Lady Amelia." His voice was at ease, but Amelia could see the white knuckles of the General's closed fists. They seemed to loosen at his next words. "Lady Serena, it is a pleasure to see you again."

If her memory had served her correctly—and Amelia's memory seldom failed—the last time Zoisite interacted with Serena was almost a week ago when the General was bandaging the girl's hands and was rewarded with the Chistonian's insults. Amelia goaded herself for her thoughts—it was very likely that Zoisite had met with the girl on other occasions without Amelia's knowledge, and the circumstances between them had changed as a result. Amelia bit her bottom lip, willing herself not to be jealous.

"You are Lord Zoisite, am I correct?" Serena's voice was soft and courteous, and very uncertain, instantly disproving Amelia's theory. She felt angered at being wrong on so many occasions in such a short space of time; it was definitely not a good day.

"I am surprised you remember."

Amelia looked up in time to see Serena smile. "I believe only four Generals are under the title of the _Four Heavenly Kings_, and the recollection of such a number of names prove to be possible for even one such as myself."

Zoisite bowed in response. "I see that you always take your wits with you, Lady Serena."

"Some consider them to be irritating, but I am glad that you approve." Serena turned her gaze to Amelia, her cerulean eyes sparkling in recognition. "And Lady Amelia. It is a pleasure to see you again. How did your perusal of Catullus go?"

The men's attention was suddenly on her, and Amelia felt the familiar blush rising to her cheeks. She tried to ignore them and focused only on Serena.

"I must admit my enjoyment and appreciation for his works was heightened by our brief discussion."

Serena glanced at the leather-bound volumes that were stacked on the desk. "Henry Fielding and Samuel Richardson. They are an interesting pair to study."

The arguments from the earlier debate returned, fresh in her memory, and Amelia leapt at the promise of a third opinion. "Are you familiar with their works?"

"I am." Serena picked up Amelia's copy of _Pamela_ and opened it, flicking through the pages, eyes scanning the text. She paused at a section, her expression unreadable. "I am more familiar than I would like to be."

She closed it and returned the book, surprising Amelia with the pain that was suddenly in her eyes. The men's calm reaction to Serena's words told Amelia that they had not seen the change in the girl's mood, and Amelia quickly thought of a diversion before the others could catch on.

"Lord Zoisite and I happen to have been involved in a friendly discussion over the similarities and differences between the works of these two authors, and have happened to reach a stalemate. Perhaps you would like to provide your own opinion?"

Serena acknowledged Amelia's gestures, and looked to the Prince, who was pulling out a chair for Serena. "This should be interesting," he said. "I believe that Lady Amelia and Lord Zoisite are constantly engaging in such 'friendly discussions', and there have been many a time when they find themselves requiring a referee to hand out their judgements. However, the task is more difficult than it seems, as only few are able to meet the intellectual demands set by these two. You should be honoured to be given the privilege."

Serena looked up at the Prince as he took his own seat. "Why does it seem as if you're reading my death sentence instead of praising me?"

Amelia tensed at the girl's words, not wanting to be involved when the Prince's anger was unleashed. To Amelia's surprise, the Prince only laughed, a rich sound that Amelia had never heard before with such sincerity. "I'm afraid I'm having some second thoughts here myself—I was hoping to treat you to something special and spend the rest of the evening digging out rare books, but it seems as if I have inadvertently led you to your funeral."

The words sounded like an insult to Amelia's ears, but Zoisite had thought otherwise. The usually serene General was smiling genuinely, his features softening in a way that stunned Amelia. For all the years of their acquaintance, she had never seen him like this.

"Darien here has a habit of exaggerating his misfortunes," Zoisite said, his voice warm. "I am sure such skills would have been highly beneficial had he decided to contribute them to the theatre."

"I must admit that I have not yet noticed the behaviour," was Serena's response, "but perhaps such characteristics only surface when Darien is in more serious company, where he feels a need to compensate for a lack of his other qualities."

Amelia smiled at Serena's words, pleased to see that she had made the Prince so uncomfortable. He feigned hurt and remorse as he muttered, "Nephrite's going to say goodbye to his hidden supply of brandy."

Zoisite nodded, bemused. "Third drawer of the mahogany cabinet in his drawing room."

"Thank you. I vow to never again provide my assistance to Kunzite during your games of chess." The two men solemnly shook on the promise, while Amelia and Serena looked on in disbelief.

"Now that the two of you have indulged in the necessity of affirming your masculinity," Serena said, "shall we proceed to a more constructive discussion?"

"As constructive as squabbling over the drivels of lecherous dead men can get."

Serena shot a look at the Prince, and Amelia swore she saw him cower. "If you want to sit there, the least you can do is curb your own drivelling."

Amelia watched, amazed, as the Prince bowed his head apologetically. "Your command is duly noted."

Finding a loss for words, Amelia looked to Zoisite for encouragement. The General was smiling and at ease, almost as if he believed the Prince's behaviour was completely normal. Amelia felt that all attention was on her yet again, waiting for her to begin the discussion. Although she did not understand the changing dynamics between the three people she sat with, Amelia knew they were gathered here for a purpose, one that she was familiar with. She took a moment to consider her options, but her curiosity about Serena's opinions overcame her uncertainty; Amelia straightened in her seat, her decision made.

"Lady Serena, would you enlighten us with your thoughts on the similarities and differences between the works of Fielding and Richardson?"

* * *

Serena drained the water in her glass, relieved that it was finally over. Darien had been correct about the intensity and duration of such discussions between Amelia and Zoisite, and their passion had been contagious. Though they respected what Serena had to say and listened to her arguments carefully, persuading them to accept her interpretations as the most valid was another matter entirely. The polite exchanges had gradually turned into a full-blown verbal campaign for the most righteous of answers, leaving no room for restraint or hesitation. Serena had never engaged in such a heated battle, but she begrudgingly admitted that it was somewhat enjoyable, or at least it would be viewed as such, once she had stopped retrospectively going over every little detail and dissecting their arguments into countless pieces.

And she did not like Darien's triumphant look, which surely resulted from the concentration that was still plastered on her face. _He_ wasn't the one who had to defend the authorial intentions of those whose quills had long run out of ink.

"Poor Serena," he said, reaching out a hand to comfort her, "I should have given you a more explicit warning before sacrificing you to these philosophical canines."

She brushed the hand away. "Don't patronise me, Darien. I handled it well enough with your assistance."

"She couldn't be more correct," Zoisite said, drinking from his own glass. "Your points were very well argued, Lady Serena."

"Likewise, Lord Zoisite." She nodded in Amelia's direction. "And you, Lady Amelia. I am very impressed at your thorough knowledge of these works."

"What about me? Where's my compliment?"

Serena raised an eyebrow at Darien's keen expression. "The only thing you deserve is a good clubbing for not mentioning you kept company with two of the most intelligent and well-educated people I have ever had the honour of meeting."

"Is that so much of a surprise, Lady Serena?" Zoisite asked politely. Serena regarded the light tone with suspicion—the General had spoken in the exact same way before ripping one of her arguments to shreds.

"I'm not entirely sure whether anything should be a surprise, after being exposed to Nephrite's…exuberance."

The men laughed, and Serena allowed a smile to slip. It quickly disappeared when she noticed Amelia sitting with her shoulders tense, struggling to keep a polite, interested expression on her face. Amelia had been passionate and eager to present her own opinions during the discussion, but she was now the uncertain, quiet woman who looked as if she didn't think she belonged. Serena could almost hear the well-formed apologies Amelia would make to excuse herself from their company.

Hoping her familiarity with Darien and her slight upper hand would act in her favour, Serena spoke again. "Darien, I believe it is time to finally make yourself useful. Please do us all a favour and remove these books from my sight before a headache finds me."

He flashed her a wide, charming smile, and Serena wondered why she ever doubted. "Certainly, my Lady."

Taking the hint, Zoisite also rose from his seat. "Perhaps some refreshments are also in order. Lady Serena, would more water suffice, or would you prefer something stronger?"

"A light wine would be lovely."

She noticed the General did not ask Amelia or Darien for their preferences, and Zoisite was halfway to the door when Darien called out, "Zoisite, give me a hand here and then we can raid Nephrite's room together."

Serena saw the look shared between the two, though she did not know what transpired between the men. Zoisite nodded and returned to the table, and the two cleared the books, save the small pile Amelia insisted on taking with her. They quickly returned them to the shelves, and bowed before leaving the two women alone.

The silence was far from comfortable. Amelia gave Serena a polite nod and reached over to retrieve a volume from the books she had kept aside. The soft sound of pages being flipped continued for the next few minutes, allowing Serena the time to gather her own thoughts. Seeing the concentration on Amelia's face, Serena almost felt sorry for the girl. She was a proud, intelligent woman, and despite the readiness with which she expressed her opinion, she no doubt kept her own personal feelings to herself. But her obvious discomfort in their presence when the conversation went beyond those of the literary and philosophical realm could not be simply attributed to aloofness or superiority.

"Lady Amelia, may I enquire as to what you are currently reading?" The empathy in her own voice astonished her, but Serena was not able to withdraw her offer.

"A collection of early Anglo-Saxon literature," Amelia replied, after a short pause. It was obvious that the girl wanted nothing more than to continue reading in peace, but she made an attempt to remain courteous. "Are you familiar with those works too?"

Serena had heard of it, but the texts were obscure and she never had a chance to study them in Chiston. "I am not. Has it proven to be interesting so far?"

"I am slowly making progress on learning the language in order to interpret them."

"Your dedication is very admirable." Serena bent across the table, trying to decipher the words. "That seems to be an entirely different script!"

She must have said something amusing, for Amelia let out a small smile. "Only a few letters are different, but most of them bear similarities with the Common Tongue."

"Ah. I must confess I have not yet mastered the art of reading upside down." Seeing Amelia's smile widen, Serena spoke again. "Could you read a portion out loud?"

Serena could tell from the surprise and hesitation that Amelia was not used to receiving such requests. But despite her reservations, the girl nodded, and Serena waited patiently for Amelia to start.

The language was foreign, each individual word incomprehensible to Serena, but there was a certain quality to the sounds and rhythm that reminded her of standing alone atop a mountain, her hands outstretched towards the heavens in an act of surrender. She had never heard anything like it before, and yet, Serena felt like she knew the piece, knew the heavy sentiments that enveloped her. And then Amelia had finished, and Serena was free again.

"That was amazing."

Colour rose to Amelia's cheeks, but she was smiling. "It is rather awe-inspiring. 'Caedmon's Hymn', truly one of a kind."

"There is something special about it," Serena said, "a particular quality that makes it so raw and so refined at the same time… Would you happen to know what it is?"

Amelia shook her head, the joy gone. "I have been trying to find the answer to that myself, but it has continued to elude me."

"Perhaps we could make a combined effort. Would you please read it again?"

The girl obliged and Serena closed her eyes this time, letting the sounds roll over her. The effect, though not so profound, were still there. It only took Serena a moment to pinpoint the exact nature.

"It is the meter," Serena said once Amelia finished reading. "I almost overlooked it because I've never experienced anything like this before, but it's trochaic."

"Where?" Amelia looked back at the pages, somewhat frustrated. "I don't see it."

"There are four stressed syllables in each line, but the number of unstressed syllables are uneven, unmatched. Read the first line again."

Amelia complied, her expression now one of amazement. "How did you know?"

"I was just listening to the way it sounded so tense, with a driving force, and at the same time so loose, almost messy."

"Yes, yes, that makes perfect sense." The girl looked at the poem again, and was suddenly excited. "The alliteration! Most of the stressed syllables are also alliterative!"

Armed with the new knowledge, Amelia read through the piece a third time, allowing them both to fully appreciate the piece. When she finished, the light in her eyes had changed into something soft and friendly, a subdued spark that would warm them for the rest of the evening.

* * *

Darien knocked once on Nephrite's door and entered, Zoisite close behind. He was surprised to find Kunzite sitting with Nephrite, but the older General was not fazed at unexpectedly seeing his Prince.

"Your Highness, I have been looking for you."

He dismissed Kunzite's bow with a wave of a hand, certain that the General's search had been hindered by Mina's report. "What is the occasion, Lord Kunzite?"

"I have a letter from Diamond."

Darien paused for a moment, then nodded, extending his hand. Kunzite pulled the letter from within his coat.

"Is that all?" Not waiting for the General to reply, Darien had already made his way towards the table where Nephrite sat. He broke the seal and, under the light of a lamp, quickly skimmed the contents. So, the fool did have half his wits about him. He folded the parchment and placed it in his pocket, where another letter was waiting. "Nephrite, deliver this to Lita please."

He knew he was being abrupt, but time could not be wasted. "If you leave at once, you may be able to catch her before she retires for the evening."

Nephrite took it, bowing deeply. "Then I will see you later tomorrow, Darien." He paused, then added, "Or perhaps the day after that, if I am fortunate."

Darien noticed the other Shitennou exchange glances, but those questions would have to wait. Serena, on the other hand, had waited long enough, and he was not about to waste another minute. He had already selected a bottle of very fine pinot noir from his cellar—now it was time for that elusive brandy from the third drawer.

* * *

Her arm was looped through his as they walked back to her room. Having her so close to him, Darien thought about all those images that had been brought up against his will. With them he recalled the memory of the kisses they had shared, how her soft lips had sought out what she wanted, what they both wanted, without restraint. His mouth grew dry at the thought, and Darien quickly pushed them away.

"I know a great majority of the evening was unexpected, but I hope you enjoyed it regardless."

Serena sighed in contentment. "It was truly wonderful. I have never seen so many books in my life… Zoisite and Amelia are lovely people too. I thought they were a bit proud at first—I thought all of you were too proud for your own good—but no, they were lovely, and intelligent, and really lovely people."

Darien stopped in his tracks, and Serena stumbled, almost falling over. He quickly caught her, setting her back on her feet again. "Serena? Are you feeling alright?"

"Sunshine couldn't feel better!" The words were slurred, and she was smiling brightly. "I am a bit tired though…that's strange, I don't think I've done anything strenuous today…"

"Serena, you were up before dawn."

"Oh. Well. Was it pretty? I like sunrises, though I never get to see them often…I hope it was pretty." She paused, and a frown worked its way into her face. "It's a bit hot here, don't you think?"

Darien shook his head in disbelief. She seemed to be sober, although a bit tired, while they were still in the library, but the woman he was with now seemed to have little self-restraint. "I think you've had a bit too much to drink. We'd best get you into bed before you cause a disaster."

"Why yes, I'd love to have another drink. Is that where you're taking me, Darien?"

Darien started moving again, gently tugging Serena with him. They weren't far from her room, and he knew from experience that she would fall asleep as soon as she hit the bed. He felt guilty at having put her through such an endeavour when she was already tired, despite how well he had meant.

"I'm taking you someplace better, Serena. It's comfortable, quiet, and you even get to lie down."

"Ooohh…that sounds lovely! The library was comfortable, well the seats were, and quiet, except when you started bickering about your manly pride. You're too proud, Darien, did you know that?"

How had she gotten so drunk anyway? He remembered the first few times her glass had been filled, where the girl greedily drank her wine to ease her thirst, but didn't Amelia also drink with them throughout the evening? He abruptly stopped again, steadying Serena as she once again lost her balance. Amelia was not one to drink—Serena had finished the entire bottle. It was unbelievable that she was still standing.

"Must you keep doing that?!" The frustration was evident in her eyes, though they were distant and glazed. "Don't you think that just because I'm your friend I'm going to let you off the hook and not be angry with you—what are you doing? Put me down!"

He had scooped her up in his arms, and was now taking hurried steps towards her room. "I'll put you down when I'm sure you won't topple over immediately afterwards."

He could almost see her expression as she contemplated his words. "Well. Okay then." She leaned into his chest, draping her arms around his neck, surprising him with the intimacy. He had expected more of a struggle, but the bundle in his arms seemed more than happy to make herself comfortable. He shook his head, smiling to himself at the absurdity of the situation: the powerful Prince Endymion of Sairelle, carrying an inebriated prisoner to her rooms so he could tuck her into bed.

To his relief, they soon reached the entrance to her rooms. Shifting her weight to one arm, he freed his other hand enough to open the door, letting them both into the empty rooms. He quietly closed the door behind them, then headed straight for the bedroom. Darien noted with satisfaction that a fire was still burning in the room, warding off the chilly autumn night. He carefully placed Serena onto the bed, smiling as he withdrew his arms from beneath her.

"There, you're all set," he said, brushing away a stray wisp of hair. He was still hovering over her, and was about to straighten when her eyes found his.

The intensity behind those knowing cerulean eyes sent a burst of heat surging through his body, straight to his heart. The glazed look was gone, and in its place was a single-minded focus, a confident woman who knew what she wanted. And in that moment, in the soul-shattering heartbeat, she wanted him.

There was no need for consent, for the nod or murmur that he would have given her, but she silently questioned him just the same, though she did not wait for an answer. Her grip on him was strong, and he did not resist when she pulled him down, down, to her waiting lips, to the body waiting for him to explore. There was nothing chaste or restrained in their kiss, none of the polite and courteous give and take of their previous non-verbal conversations—this was urgent, raw, their lips and tongues seeking what the other needed. This was her fingers twisting in his hair, pulling him to her mouth, and then down, down. This was his lips wrenching from hers, finding her neck, her breasts, the fine trail of hair towards her belly, and down. This was tongues and hands travelling for a lifetime and finally finding where they belonged and what belonged to them. The soft, the hard, the swelling and the tumbling, the cries that escaped through the throat and breathed into the ear; it was all an endless cycle, born before their time and waiting for the right moment to ensnare its prey.

But he pulled away from her before the trap closed, feeling his own heart tear out in defiance. "No, Serena, not like this."

She was confused, then angry, but he moved in before she could speak, capturing her lips, stroking her skin with his hands. Pulling away for the second time was just as difficult, just as painful.

"Listen to me, my beautiful Serena. I want this, very much." He kissed her neck, grazing it with his teeth until she moaned and he found his words slipping away with her. "I want you, I want _us_, more than anything in this world. And I want it to be real, like the scent of the flowers you breathed in this morning, like the feel of rough parchment under your fingers."

"It is real, Darien." Her voice was a whisper. "_We_ are real."

He smiled, running a finger across her forehead, not knowing how much the words meant to him. "I know, sweetie, I know. But it has to be more, there has to be so much more, than just this moment. I want every kiss,"—he lowered himself enough to place a feather-light touch on the tip of her nose—"every caress,"—he moved his hand down her body, teasing the soft curls with his fingertips—"to be just as real now as it will be tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that."

"It will be," she promised. He smiled again, a sad smile, not knowing why the honesty, the trust, was hurting so much.

"No, not the way I want it to be, not the way I need it to be." He felt tears well at the confession, blurring the image of Serena, patient and willing. "I want you to know every single moment for what it is, not as a blend of this and that that you can't quite name. Do you understand me, Serena?"

She could have lied when she nodded and murmured her reply, but he would never have known. All that mattered was what she said, what she did, and he drank her presence with a thirst that stemmed from someplace deep within, every drop a truth. So before he left he kissed her again, a gentle kiss that betrayed none of his desperation, and hoped that it wouldn't be their last.

* * *

AN: Please review! :)


	13. Chapter 12

**As the Eagle Flies  
**

To all my North American readers: Happy Thanksgiving! Being raised in Australia, I've never celebrated it myself, but I hope you've all had a wonderful time with your family and loved ones.

Quite a few of you have been wondering about Diamond's role—rest assured, we'll be seeing more of him in the future. Similarly, there will be more interactions between the Generals and their Ladies, and of course, as this is a Darien/Serena story, the relationship that develops between them will continue to be one of the main focuses.

Also, to answer sarahr85's question regarding _Pamela_: In the framework of the story, it's considered to be one of the 'literary classics', and anyone with a decent education would have read it. Serena was actually re-reading it on the day Tristone was attacked (she mentions this to Lita about halfway through Chapter 10), so it has a bit of personal significance. The story of _Pamela_ has some similarities with this one as well, where the protagonist is essentially kidnapped and lied to by her captor, and they eventually fall in love and marry. If you want to know more about it, look it up on Wikipedia, or feel free to send me an email. I hope that answers your question. :)

I'm pleased to announce that this chapter is as long as the last, and hopefully as entertaining, if not more! Writing the last scene proved to be a bit of a challenge, but I'm glad I've finally managed to pen such a pinnacle scene. As such, this chapter is for all of you lovely readers who have been so encouraging and supportive in your reviews. You know who you are. :)

* * *

Chapter 12

Her throat was parched and her head was swimming in a way that shouldn't have been possible while she was lying down. Something was heavy on her chest, and as she regained more consciousness she identified the feeling as nausea. She tried taking several breaths to settle her heaving stomach, but the rush of air scraped against her throat. She coughed, a distant, feeble sound, then groaned as her body protested against the movement.

She didn't noticed Mina in the room, but the girl was now at her side, speaking to her in quiet tones. "Miss, are you feeling alright? Would you like a basin?"

She gathered the effort required to formulate a response, and rasped, "Yes, please, a basin."

The words had barely left her mouth when she trembled and her reflexes flung her towards the side of the bed where Mina held the wooden basin. Her body had a will of its own as she involuntarily emptied last night's dinner, mingled with her sweat and tears. It only took a few minutes, but it felt like forever.

Mina handed her a glass of water and a towel, both of which Serena accepted gratefully.

"Is there anything else I can get for you?"

Serena sighed and held out a hand—it was all she could manage. She longed to bury herself back under the covers and hope that the throbbing and ache would disappear, but pride kept her sitting upright, even when the stench of her own vomit was making her nauseous once again.

Taking the hint, Mina left the room with the basin, returning a few moments later with a tray. The thought of any food made Serena want to whimper, but she stiffened her resolve and kept her mouth shut.

"This is a brew that should make you feel more comfortable," Mina said, waiting for Serena to take the cup. "Drink it slowly, and you will feel better very quickly."

Serena had never heard of such miracle cures before—the only treatment for such conditions was drinking plenty of water and dealing with the consequences with gritted teeth. She did not hide her scepticism as she took the cup and sniffed the contents. Despite the green tinges of the brew, the aroma was not at all unpleasant, and reminded Serena of freshly cut grass early in the mornings. Bracing herself against an unwelcome reaction, Serena took a small sip.

It tasted like summer, like fresh rain and clean mountain air, soothing her throat and clearing her mind. Each swallow was another caress of the healing balm, spreading through her body to her fingers and toes. She finished the brew faster than she expected, and a part of her was thirsting for more.

"This is wonderful," she said, returning the empty cup. She did not voice her next question, but Mina smiled with understanding.

"I'm sorry miss," the girl said, "you can only have one cup because the effects can be too strong. I could get you another glass of water though."

Serena tried to keep the disappointment from her tone as she thanked the girl. The brew must be working its magic now—she was feeling calmer, more settled, though her limbs were still heavy and sore. Judging from the amount of light that seeped through the curtains, it was already well into the day. The thought of light and of hoisting herself through the day was not a pleasing one.

"Mina," she said, "I wish to rest for a while longer."

There was no surprise in the other girl's eyes at her request. "Certainly. Is there anything else you would like?" When Serena shook her head, Mina curtsied. "I will remain in your suites, miss. Please pull this cord"—she gestured to a thin rope that dangled next to the bed—"when you need me."

Serena thanked the girl again, and only when Mina had left the room did she lay back down. As tired as she was, Serena's mind could not stop reeling from the flashes of what she had remembered from the previous night—the conversations with Zoisite and Amelia in the library, the laughter and the palatable red wine, the sudden hotness and the flushing that came soon afterwards. The details eluded her, and all she could recall was the general feel and hues of her emotions, her skin warm against the cool air. And then the touches, the caresses, the kisses, the scalding eyes and the voice—oh the husky, lustrous voice—and then, nothing. The more she concentrated the more clouded the memories became. She needed them to clear, needed the clarification of all the events from the evening before, but there was so much she did not know, so much uncertainty. All that remained was a single question, a question whose answer can only be provided by the one person who she was no longer sure of: what exactly had she and Darien done last night?

* * *

Zoisite felt sorry for Serena as he checked her body to ensure she was fine. Despite the improvement of their animosity from the previous evening, the girl was now distant and withdrawn again, not unlike the first time he was at her bedside. He suspected that the reason behind the coldness now, however, was remarkably different from last time—whereas she previously saw no reason to trust them, she was now unsure of whether she could trust herself. The hasty orders he received from the Prince gave Zoisite an idea of what might have transpired between the two, but it was not in his place to question either of them. Finding her heartbeat was sounding normal, Zoisite released the girl's wrist.

"Are you having any difficulty breathing?" he asked, keeping his professional tone.

"No." The short answer did not surprise him, nor did the evasion of his gaze.

"Are you feeling unusually thirsty or uncomfortable?"

"There is nothing unusual about those feelings." Understanding her meaning, Zoisite continued.

"Are you feeling any pains or aches of any kind?"

"My pains and aches will surely disappear once you cease this pointless interrogation."

"I would like to clarify that this is not an interrogation, my Lady, but a set of procedures I must undertake to ensure that you are well."

The look she gave him was scalding. "I have informed you once already, and despite how unwilling I am to repeat this, I would like to clarify, once again, that I am perfectly well."

"It is a rather remarkable trait of some patients to insist that they are well, when it is only a trained physician that can come to such a decision, and that can only be achieved after a thorough inspection."

"So you are implying that all the pitiful people in this country are ill unless declared otherwise?"

Zoisite grimaced at her words. "I am saying that my services as a physician has been requested, and I am simply doing my job to ensure that you will not require any further attention in the near future." Remembering the jovial atmosphere they had created in the library, Zoisite softened. "And I suppose you are simply doing your job by making this extremely difficult for me."

A small smile formed on her lips, a shadow of the brilliance that he saw yesterday. "I am glad you also keep your wits with you, Lord Zoisite."

He was able to carry out the rest of the procedure without further incidence, and was able to put his instruments away shortly after. Zoisite was about to thank her for her co-operation when he noticed the faraway look on Serena's face, and realised that her compliance could have been for a different reason altogether. He could take a guess as to the cause, though he did not want to walk where he was unwelcome.

"I have completed the examination," he said. "Are there any questions you would like to ask, any concerns you wish to voice?"

"Was all this really necessary?" The question took him by surprise, and he saw that Serena had noticed his reaction. "Please, be honest with me."

"Perhaps you have not encountered as many such cases as myself," he said slowly, "for a number have suffered a worse fate after consuming large quantities of alcohol."

"Correct me if I am wrong, but surely I did not have so much to drink."

"You had a fair amount," was Zoisite's answer. He paused for a moment, considering his options, but knew he could not keep the truth from Serena. "But no, it was not enough justification for such a thorough examination. The symptoms you have experienced are fairly typical for those in your circumstance, and they are nothing that fluids, food and bed rest cannot cure."

She considered this information, and then said, "He sent you."

It was a statement, but the upward inflection made it resemble a question. Zoisite nodded in confirmation. "He sent me." He turned away to fumble at his bag before she could see his change in expression; he did not know whether it was Darien or the Prince who had given the command.

When he was game enough to meet her gaze again, Zoisite found that Serena was staring straight ahead. The moment had passed, and Zoisite accepted that the girl had withdrawn to her own world. Zoisite understood her sentiments completely—there had been numerous times when the General preferred to keep to himself, and he respected Serena's privacy. There were no doubts that this girl was responsible for an unexpected transformation of the Prince, but Zoisite knew that his duty was to Darien, first and foremost; what Serena chose to disclose was none of his concern.

* * *

The Shitennou reconvened that evening, opting for the drawing room where they always held their gatherings. They sat around their table, intensely aware of the empty chair between Nephrite and Kunzite that made the circle incomplete. They filled their time with small-talk, with games of chess and drinking, but the atmosphere was nowhere near jovial. The anticipation and tension swelled in the air until it was almost difficult to breathe, and the men all knew what was on the others' minds, itching to breach the subject without breaking faith with their liege. Perhaps due to an uprising that stemmed from slandering the monarch hundreds of years ago, a law was introduced that forbade them from speculating the private lives of those they served, a law that could not be challenged by even these men. So they clenched their jaws and continued carrying out the menial tasks and pretences that were required of them, surreptitiously eyeing each other to see whether anyone would break and give them all an opportunity to express their opinions.

So when the door opened and closed with a quiet click, the four men subconsciously straightened in their seats, their hands momentarily frozen in their actions. The surprise, relief and apprehension passed between them in a heartbeat, and by the time Darien walked into sight, they had resumed their activities.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he said, nodding to the Shitennou. "I didn't expect to find you all here."

His usually smooth voice was strained, almost thin, and they all spotted the lie in an instant. Nephrite was the first to react, rising from his seat to greet the Prince in a customary manner. The rest followed suit, their movements stiff.

"Good evening, Darien," Nephrite said, "it's great to have you with us. Come and take a seat."

The special term of address the General used was not lost, and the men relaxed, if only by a fraction. Darien made his way to his seat, accepting the brandy that was offered to him. He took a moment to observe the game between Kunzite and Zoisite.

"Any thoughts, Darien?" Kunzite asked, once he realised the Prince was interested in the game. The name, although it first sounded foreign with disuse, rolled off the General's tongue in a cadence that was only bred by familiarity.

The Prince seemed inclined to speak, but then shook his head. "Sorry Kunzite, I gave my word to Zoi that I would keep my mouth shut." They all seemed surprised at the nickname, but Darien seemed unaffected. "But you should be considering your options very carefully, if you want to survive the next three moves."

Nephrite cast a look at Jadeite, baffled by this lack of involvement. The blonde only shrugged in response, then directed his attention back to the Prince.

"I was informed that you were not to be disturbed earlier this evening," Zoisite said as he made a move, "so I haven't had a chance to let you know that I've checked on Serena, and she's fine." It was spoken in a forced casual manner, the following silence a loud indication of their waiting for Darien's response.

"That's good to hear." The same strained voice, accompanied with a touch of breathlessness. "Did she speak to you about anything out of the ordinary?"

"Not that I recall," Zoisite answered, narrowing his eyes at Kunzite's move. To an outsider's eyes, the General was only interested in his chess game—the Shitennou knew well enough otherwise.

The Prince took the hint, and turned to Nephrite. "And how did you fare yesterday evening?"

Nephrite did not hide his grin. "Good, very good. Lita decided to read the letter immediately and was a bit upset for awhile—whatever Serena had written was long and probably dense. I knew better than to ask her, and provided her with a few distractions."

"Nephrite and the Countess?" It was Jadeite who had spoken. "When did that happen?"

"Two days ago," Nephrite replied without hesitation, "when Darien and I took Serena to Lita's estate. It's actually a very lovely place, with a nice bit of wilderness and a decent stable of horses. I would've never thought Lita to be the open and adventurous type."

"Exactly how open and adventurous was she?" Jadeite asked, his expression sly.

Nephrite only grinned back. "Not as much as Lady Rachael, I would think. Perhaps we should compare notes."

"How is Lady Rachael?" At first Darien's question appeared to be a diversion from the topic of Serena, but the men soon realised that he was feeling estranged from once familiar company.

"She's well," Jadeite replied. They had never discussed the incidents that occurred between Rachael and themselves, and Jadeite did not hide the bitterness from his voice. "She seems a bit too keen to be friendly with the Chistonian, though the reasons are beyond me."

His words served as the first drawing of swords that happened on the battlefield, when the actions of one side had made the decision for both.

"Leave Serena out of this." Darien was visibly angry, but never one to back down, Jadeite was holding his ground.

"That's always the most convenient thing for you to do, isn't it? Once you tire of a woman, you simply rid her from your life."

"And of course, the women must all be innocent and flawless, without a hint of ambition."

Jadeite's voice rose. "She was young, and never had the best role model in that scheming bastard for a father."

"So that excuses her from snaking her way around my court and batting her eyelashes at me."

"If you had even taken one look at the woman you bedded for those months, you would have realised that Rachael does _not_ bat her eyelashes!"

"Pardon me," Darien said, holding out his hands in mock surrender. "I must not have been paying attention to such details when I had my cock inside her."

Jadeite let out a savage noise, banging a hand on the table as he rose to his feet. Nephrite jumped up, holding his friend steady as the blonde tried to grab Darien.

"Take that back Darien," Jadeite roared, "take that back before I get my hands on you!"

The Prince also stood up, and did not take a moment to consider. "She was good, very tight. It's best to get them when they're still young and inexperienced so they can wrap around you and squeeze the breath out of you. Hair flowing, eyes wild—is that what she's like when she's with you?"

Jadeite's roar was cut short when Nephrite shoved Darien, almost sending him sprawling, if he had not caught his balance. "That's enough! Darien, that was low and uncalled for!"

The other two Shitennou stood up, realising the severity of the situation: the Prince was livid. "Lord Nephrite, remember to whom—"

"Shut it, Darien!" Nephrite was only slightly shorter than Darien, but they both knew the General would win a physical match. "You came here, seeking our company and assistance because you've finally decided living your aloof life as the almighty Prince Endymion just wasn't cutting it, and you have no right to pick fights to re-establish your masculinity when you're really just too cowardly to face Serena. So you just keep your mouth shut unless you have something useful to say, and _you_ remember to whom you speak."

The silence that followed was deafening. Nephrite had overstepped his boundaries, but his words rang with an irrefutable truth. All the facades had finally been tossed away, leaving the five men stripped, standing in a circle where their only support came from those around them. They were Generals, they were Princes, they had commanded armies and conquered cities, they had received cuts and scars, but what really remained was the bleeding of their hearts, wounds that could only be soothed by each other's presence.

Kunzite put a hand on Darien's shoulder, a gesture that spoke of their understanding. "Nephrite is right, Darien," the leader of the Shitennou said in his deep voice. "Don't make us choose between the man we serve and the man we love."

Ever so slowly, Darien nodded. He picked up his chair that had toppled over during their argument, and sat down, the rest of the men following suit. The brandy was passed around, and the chess pieces that had jumped in response to the slamming lay unnoticed.

"It's this war," Darien said quietly. "I don't know how to proceed."

They had gathered as much, but berated themselves for not having noticed it earlier. For all of his authority and finesse, the Prince was only still learning about his role.

"Is that why you haven't given any orders to attack?" Kunzite asked. "Because of your uncertainty?"

"Yes," Darien said, and changed his mind. "And no."

"Is it Serena then?" Nephrite asked.

"She's a part of it." Darien shook his head, then ran a hand through his hair. "Her, and Diamond. It's all connected." They did not speak, only waited for their Prince to continue. "She's engaged to Diamond. Not by her own will, but by his decree. Zoisite found this from a man named Seiya whom he met in Tristone."

"But you knew, before that," Jadeite said. "That's why you rode out the night we took Tristone and stopped us from harming her."

"Yes, I knew. She is, after all, an Angelline."

The men nodded, knowing how influential the Angelline family was in Chiston. Distantly related to Diamond, it was rumoured that they were third in line for the throne.

"Diamond chose Serena to be his bride," Darien continued, "because Serena was the people's choice. He's intelligent, and he knows that riots and the possibility of war is brewing in his own land. So he didn't take any chances and was adamant on being wed with Serena in all haste. His people might be protesting against Diamond's plans to coerce Serena into marriage, but once she is crowned Queen, they would be placated, knowing their future had hope."

"But nothing would have changed," Nephrite said. "Diamond would have continued his rule, with Serena by his side, just for show."

"Precisely. Knowing Diamond, he would beat Serena into submission; and knowing Serena, she would never comply. So Diamond was probably planning to sire an heir, and eliminate Serena once he got what he wanted, so he could mould his son to follow his footsteps."

Darien took another sip from his glass before continuing. "Serena has certain connections, certain influences within the Chistonian court, within the army, and has a charisma that would affect the general population. The people trust her and her family name, and would gladly heed her instructions."

It was all falling into place. Now that only the last few sentences remained unspoken, the Shitennou wondered how they did not see this clearly from the beginning.

"She's not our hostage then," Zoisite whispered.

"No. Diamond cares not for her well-being."

"Then the letter from Diamond?" Zoisite hid none of his curiosity about the contents, and Darien complied, retrieving the document from his coat.

"He has reminded me that his people never held a good opinion of us and that taking their prized Serenity Angelline only serves to escalate their hatred towards Sairelle and fuels their desire to win this war."

"And you expected nothing less from Diamond," Kunzite said. "No attempts at a negotiation, no distress at having lost his betrothed. Because she is not the bait."

"Correct. She is not the bait, nor the hostage, nor the prisoner. She serves a much larger purpose."

The leader of the Shitennou took a deep breath before speaking again. "She is our weapon, the one factor that can grant us a certainty of victory."

Darien nodded. "If we can convince her to speak against her King, against her betrothed, then this war will no longer need to continue."

All throughout the revelation, Jadeite had remained unconvinced. Now he voiced his scepticism. "Are you sure she had such an influence that she can cause the Chistonians to turn against their own country?"

It was Zoisite who answered, looking at his brother earnestly. "If you had been to Tristone after its capture, if you had spoken to some of its people, you would not doubt that the country is on the brink of civil war."

"And if Serena speaks on our behalf," Kunzite added, "then we would not have to worry so much about the spoils of war and rebuilding the cities; her people will submit to us without much struggle."

"Fair enough," Jadeite said. He turned to Darien, their enmity still hanging between them. "And how do you suppose you can persuade her to betray her own country?"

A moment passed. "I don't know." The honesty was not characteristic, nor was the Prince's torn expression. "By talking to her, by showing her some of Sairelle's finer points."

Jadeite scoffed. "Do you really think a few words and a carriage ride along the countryside is going to be enough to change her beliefs? And what of the aftermath? How do you think she's going to respond once she finds out you've been lying to her all along?"

"I have given her my real name."

"But you haven't given her your full name, the one she really wants to hear."

Darien was silent, knowing that he could not defend himself any more than renounce his position as the Prince.

"If she trusts you enough to fulfil this ultimate goal of yours," Jadeite continued, "only to discover you've been using her all along, how do you think she would react? What do you think she will tell her people?"

"Then she must not find out," Darien said.

The laughter scraped at the Prince's already frayed temper. "How long do you think you can keep it from her? You've been having enough trouble as it is, and it's only been a bit more than a week. It'll take you weeks, perhaps even months before you can convince her to act on our behalf. A servant could slip two days from now, and you won't be anywhere close to your goal. You have to be realistic here, Darien. Your plan is brilliant, but it is too flawed, too dependent on the decisions of one person. Are you really willing to risk the outcome of this war on such little odds?"

"Then how do you propose we go about?" Darien said in response. "Attack more of Chiston, when Diamond is expecting just that?"

"And while we're considering these possibilities, Diamond may have already readied his armies to launch an attack on us."

Darien's face was grim. "We're prepared for those attacks. If we're not concerning ourselves with capturing more of Chiston, we have more time to concentrate on our defences."

"And those defences will hold," Kunzite stepped in. "Perhaps it might be a good thing, if this war is not so dependent on physical fighting, on the deaths of our people. But this different type of battlefield may prove to be more difficult to win, Darien. Have you considered this?"

"No. I will not ruminate over the consequences of failure. My time is much better spent finding ways to ensure our victory."

"And do you think you are succeeding?"

"I believe I am making some progress." Darien sighed, then shook his head. "I honestly don't know why it seems much more difficult than it is."

"Because she is not simply one of your pawns in this game," Nephrite said, "but a person." In a softer voice, he added, "One whose trust has to be earned, and not without a price."

"You don't like my plan," Darien said, almost relieved at Nephrite's reaction. "I knew you wouldn't approve."

"I don't." The two regarded each other, weighing the factors that were between and beyond them. Finally, Nephrite continued. "I will help you, for the sake of my country, for the sake of our people. But when you hurt her, when you betray the trust she has placed in you, then you will find no assistance from me."

"So you're effectively saying that you'll aid Darien in the deception, but renounce responsibility once the girl realises she's living a lie?"

Darien held out a hand, silencing Jadeite. "If you push him, I'm certain he'll renounce his position without a second thought."

"You cannot be serious, Nephrite," Kunzite said.

The smile on the General's face was sad, wistful. "You don't know her, Kun. After what we've done to her people, her friends, her very own family, she has no reason to trust us, to listen, to care. A part of her is constantly reminding her that we are the enemies, but she is fighting so hard to see us as human beings, as people who eat and breathe and laugh and cry. She has a big heart, and against all of her education and upbringing, she is giving us what little she has left. It's no wonder her people love and respect her."

"I can't believe you're talking such crap," Jadeite said. "She's a feisty little whore at best."

"I'm sure you would know," Darien said, "considering your expertise in that subject."

Kunzite interrupted before the argument could start. "What's important here is finding a way to convince her to act on our behalf. Darien, if your goal was to earn her approval of our people, why did you hold the masquerade ball?"

"She wanted to meet the Prince, and I could do no more than oblige."

"He left quite a poor impression. What purpose did it serve?"

"I wanted her to see the Prince in the public light, where he is no more than a symbol. Yet, despite his alleged authority, there appears to be many who defy him. She had to see that to understand that there is more to Sairelle than a cruel Prince and an ineffectual King."

"And who has dared defy the Prince," Jadeite asked, tipping his head towards Nephrite, "apart from the obvious?"

"The obvious makes an excellent start," was Darien's reply. "Of course, we must progress from here. And I will need your assistance for that." The way he said it made it sound like a request, not a command, but the Shitennou listened attentively. "After Serena was captured, I hastily ordered you to call me 'Darien'. The role was difficult to assume, and I believe it wasn't easy for you to change your attitudes so quickly." There was a pause, and the Generals knew what was left unspoken: the Prince did not share his knowledge because the isolation was what gave him his unquestionable authority. "I need you to think of me as Darien, as the youth you were always so comfortable with. And I need you to open yourselves to Serena, so she can know the people who are running this country and make her decision when the time comes. That's all I ask of you, nothing more, nothing less."

To the amazement of the men, it was Zoisite who first responded. "I will do my best, Darien." He looked at the other Generals, and let out a small smile. "She is intelligent, and will be fair in her judgements. I have seen enough people die in this war—she is our best hope at a peaceful victory."

Nephrite spoke next. "You can count on me, Darien. But remember what I said earlier."

"I will. Thank you, Zoi, Neph." Darien looked at the other two Generals, knowing it would take longer to reach their decisions. Finally, Kunzite nodded slowly.

"Your plan is risky, but it is brilliant. Mina's attitudes about the girl have been increasingly favourable, so there must be no harm in trying to fight this battle your way."

They were all looking at Jadeite now, knowing all too well his would not comply so quickly. His stubbornness and his opinion of Serena had been set into concrete before most of the others even knew of her existence. In Jadeite's eyes, the girl was no more than the dirty, bleeding woman, eyes burning with hatred. And though he was powerless against Prince Endymion, Jadeite still had a score to settle with Darien; the change in attitude would only give him more reason to be angry.

But he was a Shitennou, and like the other men, he had a duty to fulfil.

"I can give her the honesty you request, but she won't like it."

"I appreciate that," Darien said. "Would you at least consider giving her a chance?"

Jadeite thought about it, but he was not one to lie. "No. Not unless she—not you—gives me a reason to."

Darien nodded—they had all expected as much. "Thank you," he said. "I hope your efforts will not be in vain."

"Hey, does this mean we can take Serena on more adventures?" Nephrite didn't try to hide his excitement. "There's the Three Mountains, and Deepwater Lake, and we can take her to the Capital and to the markets and—"

"You'd better write those down and start planning absences for the Prince," Zoisite muttered.

"Or we can hold another ball, with just the six of us!" Nephrite's excitement made the others groan softly. "And the Ladies, of course. We'll have so much fun dancing—Serena's a great dancer!"

"So what was this about Nephrite and the Countess?" Zoisite asked. "Is there any chance of sending him to her for another week or two, so that he can become her problem?"

"Oh, Lita doesn't think I'm a problem, not at all. In fact, she's likened me to her fireplace—useful, warm, can be difficult to control once the excitement gets out of hand."

"Anybody have any water so we can douse the flame?" Jadeite asked dryly.

"Nope, but we do have more brandy!"

Used to their antics, Kunzite ignored them and turned to Darien. "How about a game of chess?"

Darien nodded and helped clear the unfinished game and re-set the board. He had grown up to the combination of loud and quiet that created this dynamic atmosphere, but he wasn't so sure whether he could return to it as effortlessly as he had hoped. Seeing the grim expression on Kunzite's face, Darien knew that there was much to reacquaint with, and only time would tell. It was the little steps that mattered right now, and this was something he could do.

"You've improved," he said to Kunzite, "but I haven't gotten too rusty; you can be white."

* * *

After a light evening meal and a night of undisturbed rest, Serena was back to herself the next morning. She got out of bed as the sun began climbing into the sky, and dressed herself quickly. She left the bedroom to meet a surprised Mina, who was still looking tired.

"Good morning, miss," the girl said. "Are you feeling better today? Would you like to have your breakfast now?"

"Yes, I'm feeling a lot better. Perhaps I could help you with setting breakfast. Have you eaten?"

Mina seemed stunned by the question, but quickly recovered. "No, miss, I usually eat with the other servants, after my morning services are no longer required."

"That won't do. Seeing you'll have to wait for me to finish anyway, why don't you join me this morning?" Mina was about to protest, but Serena had seen enough of the rituals to know what to do. She rang for a servant, and succinctly instructed for two breakfasts to be brought up. "There. Now sit down and wait. You don't seem to be faring too well."

"No, miss, I'll get into trouble if they find out I'm eating with you."

"Don't be silly," Serena replied. "Who's going to find out? Besides, what if I have a large appetite? I haven't had much to eat all of yesterday, after all."

And Serena's words rang true, for when they sat down for their meal, Serena consumed her food faster than usual. She insisted on Mina joining her, and not wanting to cause too much trouble, Mina obliged. Serena took the initiative to make small talk, but it was soon obvious that neither was in the mood to periodically make inconsequential comments. They finished their meal in silence, losing themselves in their own thoughts.

The fragmented memories of two nights ago still plagued Serena, and no amount of concentration could bring them back. She had been too tired and frustrated yesterday to do anything but worry about her state of being and how she should react if Darien checked on her, but now that she was lucid, Serena could not help but wonder about the consequences of her actions. She longed to find out exactly what had happened, but that desire was overruled by the apprehension of meeting Darien. The few possible approaches she could take had been constantly refreshing themselves in her mind, but she had not made a decision. And perhaps a part of her did not want to, preferring to remain in her state of oblivion. With this, a new idea formed in her, one that she did not want to resist.

"Mina," Serena said, once the table was cleared, "I'm going to the library today."

"Is that where I should direct your visitors?"

She still wasn't sure whether she wanted to see him just yet, so Serena said, "Tell Darien I went for a walk and you don't know where I am."

Mina curtsied, hiding her expression. Usually Serena would have wondered what the girl was thinking, but she could not care less at the moment. Right now, she needed to bury herself in a good book.

* * *

She had found a copy of Dante's _Inferno_ and was sitting in one of the recliners in the room, but concentrating on it was another matter. Her gaze kept drifting towards the table where the four of them had sat, where Darien had become a completely different person. Her mind drifted to the touches and kisses, whether they were imagined or real. The words on the page would go out of focus, and she would be in another time and place, feeling things she couldn't quite label. After two hours of her struggles, Serena was ready to give up and find him.

The door opened with a loud click, and Serena's heart sped involuntarily. Could he have come to search for her, knowing where to look? The flash of the red dress calmed her down again, though she reprimanded herself for her foolish reaction.

"You certainly do a very good job of making yourself unavailable," Rachael said when she stopped before Serena. The blonde was about to stand up in a proper greeting when Rachael waved her hand impatiently. "Don't bother; there are plenty of seats around." She took a chair near the table and sat herself opposite Serena.

"Mina mentioned you were looking for me," Serena replied.

"And as I've said, you're very difficult to find. Where have you been?"

Serena wasn't sure how much she could trust Rachael, but the impatient woman had assumed a familiarity that Serena could not deny. "Visiting a few friends."

"Who, from the palace?" Seeing the question, Rachael waved her hand again. "That's entirely your own business. So, how have you been?"

"The usual," Serena replied. "Should I be otherwise?"

The other woman rolled her eyes. "I mean, after your disappearance at the ball. I was wondering how you've been faring, but I suppose you've had no trouble finding other ways to occupy your time."

Serena felt strangely guilty at the words; despite the careless tone, Rachael had cared. "I really don't know, actually." She winced at the uncertainty in her own voice, and added with more conviction, "Endymion is a real bastard."

"Yes, a pretentious prick who just happens to be the Prince."

Serena was surprised at Rachael's reaction—she had expected the other woman to defend her liege. "Have you two been acquainted?"

Rachael's laugh was bitter. "More than I would have liked." She paused, then thought better than to continue. "He's just not a good person."

"He hurt you."

Rachael looked up at Serena's words, finding the mixture of anger and concern in Serena's eyes. Their unexpected encounter replayed itself in Rachael's mind, and she made her decision—she had no desire to keep this from Serena. "He's a heartless, cruel man who cares only for himself. What he did to you that night was uncalled for, but that's how he likes to play his games, which is a cowardly excuse for not having any real powers."

"What do you mean? Isn't he the most powerful man in Sairelle?"

"Second to King Endymion. Did you think the Prince was a deceptive title to fool our enemies? No, the Prince in himself has little power—he only dares exercise as much as the King permits."

Serena's surprise was genuine. Her tutors in Chiston had only ever mentioned a Prince Endymion, never any King. She had assumed what Rachael had just proven wrong: that the title was only a ruse. "Sairelle has a King, a higher power than the Prince?"

"Oh yes. He was a good thing, but he's been severely ill for more than a decade and he rules through the Prince. The King discreetly gives his orders to the Prince, who had no choice but to obey. Endymion Darien Shields may appear to be a law upon himself, but he really just submits himself to a feeble old man."

It was difficult to breathe. "Darien?"

"The Prince's middle name. Not many know it, but I must be one of the privileged few because I happened to share his bed."

The possibilities taunted her, but it made no sense.

"Of course, Darien is considered to be a commoner's name, so he never uses it. I don't know why the King decided to keep it. It must have been the late Queen's decision, may she rest in peace."

"Do you know anyone else by the name of Darien?"

Rachael thought long and hard, before recognition flashed across her face. "Yes, I believe the Eagle Master also goes by the name of Darien."

It made sense, and Serena longed to believe her, but Rachael's eyes were now downcast. "Is anything the matter?"

"Oh, no," Rachael replied, too quickly. "It's just that…Darien is acquainted with Jadeite." She looked away again.

Serena breathed a quiet sigh of relief, although her fists clenched at the name of Rachael's lover, the one who had ruthlessly murdered her family. The guilt swelled in Serena, surprising her with its intensity—she had unnecessarily doubted the people who deserved her trust. "One cannot be responsible for the actions of another person, however related they may be."

Understanding flashed between the women, and Rachael smiled. "Of course. Now, if you're finished with your book, I was thinking we could go out for a walk. The weather is still tolerable and we should make the most out of it before winter truly settles over the land."

Rachael's blunt and straightforward words were a bit disconcerting, but Serena found the quality somewhat endearing. For once, she was glad that she wasn't the only one struggling to be amenable. Besides, she was sure that Rachael's presence would prove to be a sufficient distraction from other more dangerous thoughts. Smiling, Serena gave Rachael her reply.

"I hope you're not planning to go out in that dress; I'm starting to shiver at the mere thought of it."

* * *

The next few days came and went in a similar fashion, and Serena slipped into a set of routines without realisation. Mina's protests at dining together in the mornings grew weaker and eventually disappeared entirely. Rachael's visits became a regular pastime, and the two would venture to the vast palace gardens or the archery range, where the fiery woman showed off her impressive skills. Serena made daily visits to the library after dinner—the initial surprise at finding Amelia at the table faded as they both carried out their reading in companionable silence, sometimes taking the time to discuss the material. Lita's letters too came on a regular basis, though they arrived on a tray that Mina brought in, as Nephrite did not have the time to deliver them personally. Every other day found Serena at the dining table with quill and parchment, where she relayed both her mundane thoughts and the fleeting mentions of feelings she couldn't quite put into words. She had made do without an imprinted seal, but every time she let the liquid wax run in a circle on the finished letter, she would remember the elegant eagle that had been created by Darien's ring. And with each passing day, Serena's uncertainty about what she had done with Darien on that night faded into the hurt and anger of being ignored. What transpired between them could not have been so atrocious to render a man incapable of facing the woman at all. A week passed before Serena decided enough was enough.

"Mina," she said one evening after dinner, "would you happen to know where Darien's rooms are located?"

The other girl was momentarily surprised, and Serena fought hard to keep her expression neutral. She had not spoken of the man to anyone after the brief mention to Lita more than a week ago.

"I'm not really sure, miss," Mina replied after a while. "I can go ask someone who might know."

Serena realised the girl was giving her a chance to change her mind, but Serena had already decided. "Yes, please do."

With a swift curtsy, Mina excused herself and left the room, leaving Serena with the silence. She wondered whether she had made the correct decision, whether she should be seeking confrontation when Darien was clearly avoiding it. And despite her desire to know what had actually happened between them on that particular night, she felt the dread well inside her, telling her that she was not ready, that she might not be able to accept his answers.

Before she could mull any further, Mina had returned. "Miss, I will show you the way."

The panic flowed through her as she wordlessly followed Mina. She focused on her breathing, on keeping her footsteps even as she walked through the corridors. Her body felt light, as if her mind was detached and simply steering the husk. She vaguely remembered a turn here, a particular stretch there—she had made the same journey with Jadeite when she first met Darien. It seemed all too long ago.

And then they were there, in front of the large mahogany door with the runes of the language she did not know. She noticed the door knocker, a round, golden ball settled within the mouth of a golden lion, and watched as Mina knocked once, twice, thrice. The girl pushed the door open, and waited for Serena to enter.

The study looked the same as the first time she set foot into it, the dark colours instantly appealing to her senses. The sensuality of the room swelled, rising and falling in time with her chest as she took the breaths that only heightened her awareness and sensitivity. Her eyes swept across the room, lingering over the magnificent painting, glorifying the terrors of war. She vaguely recalled the name of the painting, _As the Eagle Flies_, and she couldn't help but smile at the appropriate choice.

And behind the large mahogany desk that almost looked black in the low light, sat Darien, pen poised over paper, eyes looking straight at her. His gaze did not stray from Serena, even as Mina retreated from the room and closed the door. Those sapphire eyes held her, pinning her down with something stronger than words, stronger than thoughts. There was a will, a need that burned deep beneath those beautiful, dark blue eyes, and Serena could only—no, she _wanted_ to—submit.

He swallowed, a sound that travelled through the thick silence and reached her ears, and put his pen down. As he rose to his feet, Serena saw the whiteness of his knuckles as he held his fists beside his body. This one small indication of his restraint, of his anger at something that she had not done, or at least did not remember, served as a reminder for his ignorance, for the cause of her own anger. She stepped towards him, stopping when they were an arm's length apart.

"Serena, it's lovely to—"

She snarled at how he had the audacity to speak first, at how his face was softened by the genuine, charming smile. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

He looked taken aback, but she knew it was a pretence. "What are you referring—?"

"Don't you dare stand there and feed me your flimsy excuses. Don't you dare lie to me."

His expression hardened to something she did not understand, but he did not continue. His silence gave her the opening she wanted, the justification for the anger that could finally spill over.

"Perhaps you've finally tired of me, or have decided you're too cowardly to keep risking your life to continue indulging me. If that's your choice, then so be it. But I am severely disappointed, Darien, at how you cannot be courteous enough to deliver such news to me. Pay me a polite visit, write me a little note with your fancy pens and seals; I'm not too particular."

"You don't understand, I've been busy—"

She shook at his interruption, at how he had taken her slight pause as an invitation to speak. Her voice was becoming high and shrill, and she knew she was being unreasonable with her accusations, but she was beyond caring.

"I said, no flimsy excuses, no lies! What kind of mindless idiot do you take me for, Darien? You've been avoiding me ever since that night, and I don't know why. Was it so terrible, what I did? Were my actions so preposterous that you have to lock yourself away in your secluded little room with your tail hanging between your legs?"

She didn't stop long enough for him to answer. Instead, she beat a fist against her chest, her voice breaking.

"What is it that you want from me, Darien? Am I that amusing, with my estranged reactions and exotic opinions that differ from everyone else in this country?" He grabbed her hand to stop her from hitting herself again, but she only flung it away. She was shaking visibly now, with bitter sobs or laughter, she did not know. "Are you here on his orders? That's what this is about, isn't it? Prince Endymion, putting money on seeing how long it takes to get the Chistonian slut into bed. How much did he pay you, Darien? How much is he going to reward you, when you've stripped away the last thing that I have?"

"Don't bring the Prince into this," he said, his voice sharp, strained.

"Then why?" Her voice lost its strength, and it was barely a whisper now. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

He looked away, a knife slicing through her heart. "I could not bring myself to face you."

She laughed then, a joyless, grating sound that was more animal than human. "Because pretending it never happened is better than admitting that you submitted to something that sickens you? How very considerate of you."

"Do you even remember what happened?" he snapped, taking her by surprise. He shook his head at the obvious answer, but she would not be outdone.

"Then tell me," she demanded, "tell me so that I can understand exactly what it is that I've done wrong."

He shook his head again, but there was sadness in his eyes now, and something more, something that he hid before she could identify it. "You've done nothing wrong. It was me, Serena, I was the one who wronged you. I should have left you immediately that evening, before it became…inappropriate."

She laughed again, but the hotness was rushing to her face, ready to spill over. She stood her ground, refusing to give in, to be humiliated. "You're obviously wasting your time with me here then," she said, hating herself for the tremors in her voice. "I am a prisoner here, with no rights, no privileges. Please excuse me for having misattributed your pity as something that it clearly is not."

"Serena." The way he said her name, like a plea, like a caress, was too much, even for her. The tears spilled, hot and angry, and she was helpless to stop them.

"Please do not address me so personally," she said, "when my name and identity clearly do not matter."

"It matters to me." His voice was gentle, but she could hear that he, too, was trembling. "It's not what you think, Serena, it's nothing like what you think. I was afraid that you would not want to see me or speak to me, because I was too forward in my actions, but it seems that you have little recollection of what happened. We kissed, Serena, and we touched. I was afraid that it might have been too much." He reached out a hand and wiped her tears. "And I was afraid because it wasn't enough."

The words flowed through her, and she tried to make sense of it, but could not. Now that the anger had dissipated, she felt, for the first time, their proximity, the heat radiating from his body, from the fingers that rested on her cheek. And she understood, for the first time, that her body was responding to him, that she felt a budding warmth that travelled through her in a slow, sensuous wave.

"I care not for what you are," he continued, his tone stronger, smoother. "Prisoner, Chistonian, labels that are thoughtlessly applied and can be tossed away just as carelessly. All that matters is you, Serena—your smile, your laughter, your tears, your thoughts, your fears. Every little thing about you intrigues me, captivates me, humbles me. And that scares me, more than you can imagine." He paused, his attention flickering to a stray lock of hair that was covering her eyes. He brushed it away, tucking it behind her ear, and then looked into her eyes again, an ocean of emotions swimming in his own. "I want you Serena, you."

She met his gaze without hesitation, her voice soft but with conviction. "Then take me."

And then there was no more need for words. As Darien took the step that brought their bodies together, almost touching, Serena realised with heart-breaking clarity that she had submitted long before this, that she was already his. Was it when she had sought his support on the evening of the ball, where she first had a taste of how much he was willing to give? Was it later, when he devised an intricate plan to help her escape from the palace and give her those precious hours of freedom? Or was it sometime during their quiet companionship, where not a word was uttered and yet they were comfortable to be simply in each other's presence? She did not know, and in this moment, with Darien cupping her chin and bending down towards her, she did not care.

His lips were warm and slightly rough, gently pressed against hers, chaste and restrained. Some part of him was still uncertain, still unwilling to take her choice away from her, but she found that she liked these kisses, these soft touches that relaxed her. Her hands found his chest, enjoying the feel of coarse material of the tunic. They found their way to his shoulders, then to the base of his neck where the skin seared her fingers, and finally through his hair, the silky strands that wrapped themselves around her. And with her movements came a change in him, in her, and she realised that she wanted more than his gentle kisses. Sensing her desire, Darien's lips grew more forceful, brushing hers in long, languid strokes. And then the warmth of her tongue flooded his senses, and Darien moaned as Serena kissed him with a passion that he felt in himself.

He broke off their kiss, and before she could protest, he had scooped her from the ground. Her arms immediately flew to his neck, and she found the gesture familiar, though she could not remember when it was from. He took them to the bedroom, with the large four-poster bed with silk sheets and a fire crackling in the corner. He placed her down gently, carefully sweeping her long hair from beneath her. Her heart fluttered, and again she felt as if he had made the same endearing movement before. He undressed her slowly, silently, covering her skin with kisses that stirred something within her. When Darien pulled back slightly, she felt the ache that accompanied the sudden cold, but as his eyes roamed her body and the dancing flames warmed the sapphire sea of his gaze, she found it difficult to breathe.

And then Darien was kissing her in earnest, kissing her with a fervour that she desperately clung to, as his lips and tongue caressed and teased her, tasting every inch of her body. And still, when those dark, intense eyes bore into hers again, Serena knew they both wanted more, so much more. She reached out a hand to brush against his shirt, and the small movement, however shy, was enough incentive for him to move, shrugging off his clothing carelessly, his arms and chest flexing as if they moved in time to an unheard piece of music. She marvelled at the soft glow of his skin, hesitantly stroking the dip of his collarbone, feeling him shudder slightly at her touch.

Ever so gently, Darien pushed her back until she was trapped between the sensuous silk sheets and the firm skin that was heat itself. It was all she could do to keep from moaning, and as his mouth descended once again upon hers, hot and needy, she felt another warmth filling her, deeper, until she cried out, tears trickling at how he was embedded so completely within her. He stilled, his lips finding the tears, moving against her skin and ear, murmuring words of comfort, of love. Serena relaxed, but as he continued moving again, the warmth did not disappear but started to spread, growing with every stroke he completed, _they_ completed. Her thoughts flew to the silent music she had imagined before, and knew now that she was wrong; _this_ was the music, their music, the intricate weaving of rhythms and cries that made it complete, a _pas de deux_ that belonged only to them. She saw from his beautiful eyes that he felt the same heart-wrenching joy as her, and together, their voices soared in their two distinct melodies, harmonious counterparts, as they brought their music to its earth-shattering climax.

They lay there for awhile, their bodies still entwined and thoughtlessly splayed across the bed, listening to each other's breathing as it eventually slowed. When he reluctantly withdrew from her, it was only to draw the woollen blankets over them. And then Serena was in his arms again, her cheek pressed against his heart. Her hand found his, and Darien responded by pulling her closer to him, and they both slipped into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

AN: Please let me know what you think and make my day! :D


	14. Chapter 13

**As the Eagle Flies**

Hi everyone, hope you've all been coping with the pre-Christmas rush well! Here's a chapter to give you guys some breathing time from all that Christmas shopping and the writing of Christmas cards.

To clear up some confusion, King Endymion and Prince Endymion are two different people—we're all been hearing about the Prince of Sairelle, but a higher power than the Prince actually exists in the country (Endymion's father, who happens to share his name). You'll find out more about the King a wee bit later.

As for the number of total chapters, we're looking at about four or five more chapters after this one. I'll continue to post a chapter every week, so you'll get the complete story early next year. :)

* * *

Chapter 13

The first thing she noticed was his scent. Soft, spicy, spreading its gentle warmth through her as she inhaled and exhaled. The morning air was chilly, even in the room, but the thick blankets and his arms wrapped around her cocooned her in a heat that seeped through her bones. But as her surroundings began to register in her half-alert mind, Serena found a note of panic ringing within her. She gently twisted herself out of his embrace, hoping the movements did not disturb him; Darien's wordless co-operation told her that he had already been awake. She swallowed, not wanting to meet his eyes, and felt Darien move beside her, his arms crossing over his chest.

Their comfortable silence had become a kind of sacred ritual, and Serena felt that speaking was a clear sign of disrespect. But she could not afford any misunderstandings now, and her thoughts rang out clearly through her small, quiet voice.

"Nothing has changed, Darien." Even to her own ears, the words sounded like a feeble excuse, an attempt at self-assurance.

The look he gave her did not help. "Everything changes," he said. "Change is what makes the future."

"Save your philosophy and wisdom for another day." She had not meant to snap, but her voice was sharp and jarring. Desperately, she repeated, "Nothing has changed."

But denial did not get them anywhere, and they both knew it. Darien's arm found its way across Serena's shoulders again, and he gave her a squeeze. "It may be a new day," he said gently, "but my words from last night still stand." He took her lack of response as acceptance, and drew her tighter to him. But the increase in their physical proximity did not delude him—no matter how close they were, her thoughts were not on him, but the Prince. He wondered if her affection towards Darien could overcome her hatred for Endymion; judging from her frown and the tenseness of her body, however, he resigned—it would take more than he could possibly imagine for Serena to forgive the one person who was responsible for destroying her livelihood with a single command.

As if she sensed the direction of his thoughts, Serena shifted in his arms. "What do you suppose he would think if he found out?"

"What occurs between you and I have nothing to do with the Prince," Darien said, hating himself for the smoothness in his voice. "You needn't concern yourself with him, Serena."

And that, too, was as useless as what Serena had uttered only moments ago. Their minds wandered, travelling on separate paths towards the same destination, until Serena broke off and asked, "Prince isn't well-liked by his people, is he?"

"No," he said, knowing that his lying had stopped long ago. "He is obeyed for what he is, not who he is."

"What is it like, sharing his name?"

Darien tensed, and Serena wondered what his expression was like, though she did not look at him. "His mother used to call him 'Darien'. The Queen was gentle and kind, and she wanted to remind Endymion that a part of him would always be inseparable from his people. The Prince was happy then, in his childhood. But then the Queen died, and he changed. He flinched when he heard the name, and never used it for himself again." Darien paused, as if he was gathering a train of thought that had strayed on its journey. "He resents me for sharing his name, and I only wish I could do the same."

Serena nodded, finding there was no reason to be relieved at his answer. She had suspected as much and his explanation only confirmed her theories. But she did not know what to say next, and when Darien respectfully turned his back, Serena slipped out of bed and dressed. They said their farewells in quiet dignity, and Serena left with more questions than answers.

* * *

As soon as Serena opened the door to her suite of rooms, she was met with the sight of Lita, who was rising to her feet. It took a moment for the scene to register, but Serena quickly broke into a smile and moved to embrace the other woman.

"Lita," she said, holding the woman close, "this is a most pleasant surprise! When did you arrive? I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"I arrived last night," Lita replied, "and allowed myself a good night's rest before looking for you. I was rather surprised to find that you were absent."

Serena kept her expression neutral as the memories of what she had shared with Darien teased her. "I'm very glad to see you," she said. "What brings you here?"

The woman glanced sideways at Mina, who was observing the door with interest. Knowing what was on Lita's mind, Serena smiled and spoke again. "Lita, this is Mina. She's been very accommodating and hospitable ever since I arrived here. Mina, this is Lita, a wonderful friend I am simply blessed to have."

They eyed each other warily, though Serena did not know why. Mina gave a low, respectful curtsy, and Lita returned it, though her own gestures were not as formal.

"Serena, would it be possible to speak with you in private?"

Serena had anticipated Lita's request, but she could not hide her disappointment at the lack of trust that was shared by the two. She gave Mina an apologetic look, and led Lita to the dining room, closing the door behind her.

"What is it you wish to speak about?" Serena asked, after they had both sat down.

Lita must have heard the coolness in Serena's voice, and the other woman appeared briefly guilty. "I was worried about you, Serena."

Serena softened, feeling her own guilt well inside her. Lita had been nothing more than a supportive companion, and Serena was sure the woman had her own justifications for her wariness. "I'm fine, Lita."

"That didn't seem to be the case, judging from your letters." Lita studied her for a long moment, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. "But I suppose your differences with Darien have been sorted?"

Serena felt the blush rising to her cheeks, and was glad the sun had not yet shone its way into the room, leaving it dimly lit. "I was perfectly fine in my letters," she said.

"Don't try to fool me with your pretences," Lita said sharply. "You were spending an awful amount of effort describing in minute detail every book you were reading, every meal you were having, without mentioning Darien at all. That blatant kind of aversion to the topic obviously indicated that something was wrong."

"_I_ wasn't the one who was prone to aversion," Serena replied.

"Well, why don't you tell me exactly what happened then?"

Serena sighed, shaking her head at the other woman's bluntness. It was not that Serena didn't appreciate it, but she wasn't particularly keen on discussing the details of this situation.

"Darien and I had an encounter one evening last week," Serena said, "and I believe I was somewhat drunk. Something happened between us, though I still don't remember the specifics." Serena ignored Lita's raised eyebrow, and continued. "Needless to say, I woke up the next morning with quite a headache and an upset stomach. Zoisite"—she looked to see if Lita recognised the name, and was not surprised that she did—"came in to check up on me. That was the last I saw of the Shitennou for an entire week."

"Darien didn't approach you?" Lita asked, and then muttered, "It must have been quite awful, what happened between you two."

Serena glared at the other woman, effectively silencing her. "So I confronted him last night, and now it's been sorted."

She said the last word with a finality that gave no invitation for any further queries, but that did not keep the light from sparkling in Lita's eyes. "I'm glad of it," she said, smiling. "I had come prepared to rescue you from the terrible mischief and sorrow you have fallen into, and am rather relieved to know that my services aren't required."

"Oh, Lita, they're always required!" Serena's enthusiasm made both girls laugh, but the sound was cut short when a knock was heard, and the door was opened. The tension of having to face the unknown intruder quickly disappeared, for they were met with the sight of Nephrite, slightly out of breath, eyes glowing.

"Good morning, Ladies," he said, walking towards them. He kissed Serena's hand in greeting, and then took Lita's, his lips lingering significantly longer on hers. "What an intelligent man I must be, finding both of the Ladies I've been searching for in the same room!"

Lita rolled her eyes at the remark, though a smile tugged at her lips. "An intelligent man would not waste his breath on self-compliments."

"You are quite right," he said in reply, "we should save our breath for other pastimes."

Lita glanced at Serena's direction, and was relieved to find the girl was stifling her laughter. "And you," Lita said in a tight voice, looking straight at Nephrite, "need to learn the meaning of discretion."

"Ah, I'm sure Serena doesn't mind," he laughed, winking at Serena. She smiled back at him, and Lita hung her head in resignation. Nephrite responded by clapping his hands together, and said, "So, who wants breakfast?"

Nephrite's words reminded Serena of her hunger, and the thought of food was suddenly very tempting. She was about to ring for the meals to be brought up, when Lita said, "Oh, have they been waiting for us?"

Seeing the confusion in Serena's expression, Nephrite explained, "It is customary to dine together for as many meals as possible during the day, and we Shitennou like to enjoy our meals in the company of each other."

"I thought you all had trays brought to your rooms," Serena said, still puzzled.

"Sometimes we prefer to dine privately, or in a more intimate setting, when the occasion calls for it," Nephrite replied gently, "but there are always a few of us who are gathering at the common dining room."

Serena suddenly felt foolish for being unaware of such a custom; had her particular set of habits resulted in an extra set of duties for Mina? And why hadn't anyone mentioned this to her before?

"Of course, it is understandable if you wish to take your meals in the vicinity of your own room," Nephrite said kindly. "Would you prefer to do so this morning?"

Another thought occurred to Serena as she nodded to Nephrite's words—during the past week when she had been waiting for Darien to approach her, she could have so very easily found him gathered with his friends. The thought decided her. "No, I would like to join you in the common dining room," she said. Then she added more softly, "Though perhaps for a one-time occasion."

Nephrite beamed at the response, though she saw the concern lingering in the corners of his eyes. He held out his arm, surprising Serena with the offer. A glance at Lita saw that the other woman did not mind, and Serena looped her hand around Nephrite's arm as Lita took the other. Together, they left Serena's private dining room and headed towards a more public one.

* * *

As she walked into the large area with the marbled floors and the wide windows on the side, spilling with sunlight, Serena decided that it could have been a lot worse than she imagined. The room was simple yet well-decorated, and despite the formality of the large space and the long dining table that was sitting under an unlit chandelier, Serena saw the personal touches that marked it as a private, intimate room shared between close friends. Amelia and Zoisite were sitting beside another, quietly conversing as they ate. Rachael and Jadeite—she stiffened momentarily at the sight of the blonde General—were opposite the other pair, equally engrossed in their own conversation. Darien and Kunzite sat beside them, and Serena's breath hitched when Darien casually looked up at the footsteps, his look of query warming into affection as he saw her.

"It's good to see you've all started without us," Nephrite said by a way of introduction. He led them to the empty chairs beside Rachael and Jadeite, and waited for Serena and Lita to be seated before sitting down himself.

Jadeite didn't even look up, and said, "We always start without you." Serena remembered the voice, the cruelties that resonated within that voice, but was surprised to find it light and without a hint of malice. But then he turned to greet Nephrite's company, and his expression hardened at seeing Serena.

The silence gradually brought the attention of the others, and they each looked up, one by one, the surprise registering on their faces as they saw Serena. Only Darien remained unaffected, and he approached Serena, kissing her hand, warming her skin with his lips.

"Good morning, Lady Serena," he said, his soft voice resonating crisply through the room. "It is a great pleasure to have you with us this morning." Darien sat down beside Serena, leaving his half-finished plate on the other side of the table. They waited until the servants had brought in the meal for the newcomers, and after their footsteps receded, it was only silence that followed.

The tension in the room was thick, and Serena knew she was the cause for it. Before she had arrived, the room was a quiet sanctuary, a place for the Shitennou to relax and be among their friends before proceeding to fulfil their duties to the country. Now she was here, a stranger, an intruder, selfishly arriving to destroy the atmosphere. Now she understood why she had never been invited in the first place.

Perhaps some of the occupants shared her thoughts and sympathised with her, for they were resuming to their previous conversations, though their postures were now rigid, their tones hushed and polite. Serena sighed quietly, and started on her own meal, while Darien resumed his conversation with Kunzite, though he remained at her side.

As she ate, Serena observed her surroundings, frowning at the imbalance she seemed to see in the interaction of those in the room. The pairs—no doubt romantic in nature, though she wasn't so sure about Amelia and Zoisite—were happy to speak to each other, and the Shitennou would occasionally make a comment to a comrade, but the women did not speak to anyone beyond their partner. She found this strange, and wondered whether there was a rule preventing the women from publicly conversing, when Lita turned towards Serena.

"How are you finding the experience?" Lita asked quietly.

Serena managed a smile. "It's unlike anything I've seen before," she replied honestly. "I must admit the atmosphere is slightly intimidating."

Lita nodded. "I know exactly what you mean. It's the first time I've been to one of these too, and though Nephrite tried to assure me that I would be welcome, I admit that I've hardly felt such a sentiment."

Hearing his name, Nephrite broke his conversation with Jadeite and captured Lita's attention, leaving Serena to ponder on the words. Something was definitely amiss, Serena thought, as she saw Amelia look uncomfortably at her empty plate as Zoisite joined in a conversation with Jadeite. And then the realisation struck so suddenly that she almost dropped her fork: the women didn't speak to one another simply because they weren't sure whether they were welcome. The only reason they attended the meal was to accompany their General, but their position must have come with a great deal of uncertainty attached. In fact, as Serena's heart swelled at Amelia's lonely expression, some of them weren't even sure whether they had a right to be there in the first place.

She thought back to her discussions with Rachael, at how their first real meeting was due to the emotional turmoil the other woman had been thrown in as she decided whether she should remain with a man or not. The pain had been real, the tears had been real, and Serena knew now that a part of the pain, the tears, had remained, for there was no way of confirming the duration for which Rachael would be with Jadeite. And without that certainty, the women felt obliged to remain out of the affairs between the men, because they could be so easily replaced the next day.

Darien noticed her change in mood, and gave her a quick, reassuring smile. He was still in conversation with Kunzite, and Serena longed to speak to him openly, to question about her observations and theories. But she never got a chance to formulate her words, for Nephrite suddenly spoke in a loud, excited voice.

"Hey, let's all go out to the meadows today! Lita brought over two kites and was originally going to fly them with Serena, but I think we can dig out a few more and maybe hold a competition of sorts!"

Serena kept her smile to herself; if Nephrite had noticed the tension that Serena had picked up, he did not show it. The rest of her company, however, didn't seem too keen with the idea. Serena saw, not unexpectedly, that Amelia was looking to Zoisite, and Rachael, the ever headstrong Rachael, was similarly seeking permission from Jadeite. Only Lita was smiling, having already made her decision without requiring Nephrite's consent.

Darien surprised her by speaking; she had expected Kunzite, the leader of the Shitennou, to make the first declaration. "There should be a bit of wind today," Darien said, "and the temperature will be just right for a bit of kite flying. I think I have a couple of kites tucked away somewhere."

The words seemed to instigate a response in everyone else. Serena watched, amazed, as they all began speaking in turns.

"It would be nice to spend a day outdoors before the cold settles in," Zoisite said.

"Perhaps we could pack a picnic too," Jadeite offered, surprising Serena yet again with his affable tone.

"I'll go get three carriages ready," Kunzite said, and it was settled.

After the men had spoken, the women only nodded in consent as Serena watched in fascination. She longed to speak to them about this act of instant obedience, but now was not the time.

Her thoughts were disrupted when Nephrite said, "We've got nine people here; shouldn't we find someone else to make an even number?"

The silence was heavy yet again, and as Serena saw that it was Kunzite who would be left with no partner, she thought back to Mina's words from weeks ago, and spoke before she considered the consequences.

"I have a friend who might be interested," she said, her voice quiet but clear. The attention was on her now, and she felt their surprise, felt Jadeite's glare and Darien's encouragement. Swallowing, Serena continued. "Her name is Mina, and she is a very lovely girl."

They seemed taken aback by her suggestion, but no one voiced their concerns, no one questioned her treatment of a servant as an equal. But most of all, Serena saw a struggle in Kunzite's eyes, before it quieted to a look of defeat and determination. It must have been her imagination, for it was only after Kunzite gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod that Nephrite spoke again.

"It's settled then," the General said, working hard to keep the cheer in his voice. "Darien, you go find those kites; Jadeite, could you see to the picnic hamper? Lady Serena, please be so kind as to relay our invitation to Lady Mina. We shall leave in the hour."

As everyone shuffled to their feet, the tension still thick in the air, Serena could not help but feel dread at what she had to face.

* * *

The carriage ride, however short, was still with its uncomfortable silence. Serena was seated opposite Mina while Darien and Kunzite drove the horses, and Serena wondered whether she had done the right thing by asking Mina to join them. The other girl was still wearing the ensemble that identified her as a servant, and was met with greetings so abrupt and stifled that they bordered on rude. Serena briefly recalled an incident that happened in Tristone, when an aristocrat male declared that he was in love with a maid in his household, and petitioned to secure their relationship with marriage. Serena's own father had looked upon the male with scorn and distaste, and the council made the decision to disallow such a union on the grounds of their differing positions in society. Serena had been outraged by the outcome, but when she stormed into her father's study and demanded to know why such a ruling was made, Kenneth Angelline had simply looked at her and said, "It is not us, but our mothers and fathers, who determine our fate in life." She had always known that a line was drawn between the different societal classes, but never had that distinction been so marked. And Serena had realised, for perhaps the first time, how her privileges were granted to her not because of who she was, but because of her parents, her lineage, her blood that she had no control over.

Looking at the tense way Mina sat opposite her, Serena thought with sadness and disgust that things weren't so different here after all. The line would always be there, transcending culture and language barriers. Perhaps it would have been better off to leave Mina in the palace, undisturbed.

The carriage slowed and came to a stop, and Serena's regrets, however sincere, were left with no use. Shortly after the movement ceased, the door was opened and Darien appeared, black hair ruffled by the wind.

"Lady Serena," he said, reaching out a hand. She took it, stepping out of the carriage, instantly hearing the wind as it blew across her face. Serena was glad that Darien had insisted on bringing a coat for her, and she pulled it tighter around her. The sky was lined with thin, gray clouds, casting its soft light onto the meadow that surrounded them. The grass was tinged with yellow, and the surrounding trees bore large, orange leaves, some of them drifting to the ground. Serena smiled despite herself; it was a perfect day for kite-flying.

As she turned to see how Mina was faring, Serena caught the tender expression on the other girl's face as Kunzite helped her out of the carriage. There was a familiarity there, in the way the General held out his hand, in the way Mina looked from beneath her eyelashes, a small smile on her face. Serena could not help but wonder, once again, about the relationship between the two; perhaps their history was not as simple as how Mina had described it.

The other two carriages approached them, and one by one, the Shitennou helped their Ladies from their seats. Looking at the scene before her, Serena saw how they had already stood in pairs, the women respectfully keeping to themselves. The uneasiness returned to her, and could not be quelled by Nephrite's smile as he raised his hands in a silent call for attention.

"I'm glad to have you all here," he said, his voice loud and clear. "I think we should all set up the picnic and have a bite or two before pulling out the kites. Gentlemen?"

She watched as the men nodded and got to work, leaving the sides of their Ladies. Darien gave her hand a squeeze before joining them, pulling out the thick woollen blanket and laying it on the grass. Feeling somewhat uncomfortable, Serena inched towards Lita, wondering if there was anything she could do to help.

Lita took one look at her, and said, "I'm sorry it turned out like this. I really didn't expect Nephrite to be so enthusiastic as to drag his entire army of friends and their mistresses."

The last word stung her more than it should have. "It's Nephrite," Serena replied. "I suppose we should think of this as one of his more endearing qualities."

Serena gave Lita a moment to relish the thought, before voicing the uncertainties that had been plaguing her. "Lita, are we all really defined by the men we stand beside?"

The surprise and horror flashed on the other woman's face. "Absolutely not! Serena, what have you been mulling about?"

Serena shrugged in response, trying to appear nonchalant. "It's just that the women do not interact with one another, and are simply standing here as adornments for the men."

"I think that's more because we don't know each other very well," Lita replied, though she was now considering Serena's point. "I've never really spoken to Lady Amelia, or Lady Rachael, and…" She seemed uncomfortable about finishing her sentence, and Serena sighed.

"Mina's here because I asked her to, because I enjoy her company," the blonde said. "Her class should have no bearing here."

Lita was taken aback by the comment, and she seemed to struggle for her next words. "Do you suppose I am reacting the way that I have been simply because I consider her to be beneath my station?" Lita asked, her voice quiet.

Something about the way the other woman had spoken made Serena hesitate. She knew Lita was a warm and friendly person, and from what Serena had seen, the Countess had treated the members of her staff extraordinarily well. "I don't know," Serena replied honestly. "I guess I shouldn't be making such assumptions."

Lita nodded, accepting the unspoken apology. "I see what you mean though," Lita continued. "However, I think the lack of interaction is more due to individual preferences than your theories. I don't know what romantic relationships are like in Chiston, but here, the males and females are equally responsible for such decisions. We are not simply standing beside our companions because of their wishes; we are as much choosers as we are the chosen."

Serena thought back to her conversation with Rachael several weeks ago, when the strong-willed Lady had been torn between a decision that was hers to make. She thought back to her experiences in Chiston, to how her parents, however agreeable to one another, had never met each other prior to their marriage. She thought to the day she had received the order to enter a betrothal with King Diamond, and how her protests fell upon deaf ears. It was, after all, her duty as a daughter and a woman to enter in such arrangements that would benefit the families of both parties involved.

She was about to relay some of the differences to Lita, when the men had finished setting up and were approaching them, leading them towards where the picnic was to be held. Serena gave Darien a small smile, and they sat down on the blanket in a circle. The food was arranged in large plates in the middle, and Serena watched, fascinated, as smaller plates were passed around while champagne was being poured.

"I hope you don't mind the informality," Darien said to Serena. They still had their differences to sort, but those problems did not belong to the open air and their watchful companions. "When picnics like these are held, we don't tend to deal with the fuss of serving food individually. However…may I?" With Serena's consent, Darien took her plate, and piled it with an assortment of dishes before returning it to her.

"Thank you," she said, as she watched the others do the same. She waited until all their plates were filled. Not to her surprise, Nephrite lifted his glass to make a toast.

"Ah, it's really been too long since I've been in such fine company," the General said. "Thank you for joining us!" They all lifted their glasses and drank to Nephrite's words. When they set down their champagne and started to eat, the buzz of conversation resumed.

Serena turned to Mina on her left, and asked, "How are you faring, Mina?"

"This is quite an experience, miss," was the reply. She looked down, and Serena felt sorry for the girl.

"I'm sorry to have involved you in such a mess," Serena said.

"Oh no, please don't, miss!" Mina's reaction surprised her. The girl was obviously miserable with her situation—why was she pretending otherwise? "It was a surprise, that's all. I didn't expect to be seeing…everyone."

"I should have given you some time to think and give your response," Serena continued quietly. "I was hoping the reaction you would get would have been slightly different."

It was curiosity that was now in Mina's eyes. "What do you mean, miss?"

"I had thought these people here would not have cared about your position," Serena replied. "I obviously stand corrected."

Kunzite had somehow overheard their conversation, and joined in. "Please do not make such assumptions about our customs, Lady, until you have experienced enough to make a proper judgement."

The cool words and the authoritative voice stirred something in Serena. "I have had my fair share of experiences, Lord Kunzite," she replied curtly.

"That may be the case," Kunzite said, "but I am afraid that your personal experiences are not sufficient for you to justify your opinions on this current issue of discussion."

Serena clenched her jaw, knowing the General was right. She had only interacted with a select few people in Sairelle, and what she had heard and learnt from Mina could not possibly have been an accurate reflection of the values of the entire country.

"Perhaps we should enlighten her then, Kunzite." Darien's suggestion was clearly heard by everyone in the circle, and Serena wondered, yet again, what kind of situation she had gotten herself into.

"As you wish," said the leader of the Shitennou. "What would you like to know, Lady Serenity?"

Kunzite's usage of her proper name surprised her, the formality of his tone and address so far removed from the atmosphere Nephrite had so painstakingly tried to create. Nonetheless, Serena lifted her chin, ready to face the challenge. "What places do servants have in Sairelle, Lord Kunzite?"

The question was met with a few moments of silence, and Serena realised that she had been too forthright. But despite her bluntness, her question was not an attack on their country, but was threaded with genuine interest.

"They are employed by those who are privileged to obtain their service," Kunzite answered. "Perhaps they are not as free to choose their masters and mistresses as they would like, but the decision ultimately belongs to the servant."

"Ah, you must be referring to the difficulties of choosing between hard, cruel treatment for little benefits and a life on the street with even less."

The tension thickened in the air, but Serena held fast to her opinions. All attention was now focused on the exchange between her and Kunzite, and Serena knew that another member of the Shitennou would jump in to support their leader's argument at any time.

"Every person must make a living for themselves, Lady Serenity," Kunzite continued. "It is by their own talents and merits that they receive their benefits."

"So all the servants at the palace, all those employed within your country, are forced into a life of hard labour simply because they have not been gifted by talent?"

"They are not forced, but are free to make their own decisions."

Serena smirked. "You are relying too heavily on your unbelievable argument that servants are granted with the power of choice."

"Then let us take a different direction, as I see you are not inclined to accept this fact," Kunzite said, surprising Serena with his words. "Part of your statement is correct: those who are talented and hard-working receive their share of acknowledgements and are aptly rewarded."

"But it just happens that most of the servants who remain so are those who were born of other servants, and those who rule are of noble blood."

"My father was a footman." The small voice came from Amelia. "And my mother was a seamstress."

The declaration seemed to elicit curiosity in some in the circle, though Zoisite's expression was perfectly neutral. Serena noticed that the soft-spoken girl was tense from the attention, and respected the courage she had in speaking up.

"Yet I am learning to become a physician," the girl continued, "and am privileged to have my own suite of rooms in the palace, my own set of attendants. I know that you have your suspicions about our ways, Lady Serena, but perhaps you should ensure you know what you are speaking of before you broach the subject."

"I had not meant to be accusing," Serena said, though she realised the irony of her words—she had been exactly that. "I see discrepancies, divergences from the customs I have grown up with, and I cannot help but question and wonder."

"I understand your sentiments," Amelia replied, "and we are happy to answer your queries, so long as they are not spiteful accusations due to your own lack of comprehension."

The girl's tone was neutral, and Serena felt ashamed at her own actions. Feeling the eyes of all those around her, Serena bowed her head. "You were correct to reproach me, Amelia," she said. "I shall endeavour to ensure my mistake will not be repeated."

The tension in the atmosphere shifted to something more placid, and when Serena lifted her head, the eyes that met her were less condemning, less hostile. Knowing her assumptions had taken away her right to speak, Serena waited for one of the others to resume the conversation.

"Sairelle's social structure is more fluid than you imagine," Kunzite said, "but this, of course, makes it possible for those previously in power to meet their downfall, if they are unable to assert their right to maintain that position. A good example from recent years can be seen through a Duchess named Beryl, whose limited interests of gambling the money she collected from taxes and satiating her varied set of appetites led to a revolt where her estate was plundered, and she was stripped of her title."

"A Duchess?" Serena asked, surprised. Kunzite's description was accurate for most of the nobility who lived in Chiston, but never had any action been taken against their lavish lifestyles; those who tried were severely punished. "She must have had close relations with the Royal Family."

Kunzite could see what she was hinting, what response she was hoping to hear, but he shook his head gravely. "Such connections mean little, when the person in question behaves in such a selfish, ludicrous manner. Before her actions had revealed her nature and sealed her fate, she was considered for entering a matrimonial agreement with Prince Endymion."

The mention of the Prince changed her awe to something akin to disgust. "And what actions did the Prince take?"

"Nothing." It was Darien who spoke, and Serena turned her attention to her immediate right. "The situation was handled by the Shitennou, and the Prince was later notified of the results."

Her puzzled expression must have betrayed her, for Darien continued, this time in a softer voice. "The Prince is not the only power in this land," he said. "There are times when conflicts arise between the Prince's desires and what is good for the people."

He left the rest of his words unsaid, but Serena could hear them as clearly as if he had just uttered them. She had thought the Shitennou were simply four men who blindly obeyed their Prince like loyal dogs, but she was so very wrong. They were the ones who ruled, the ones with power.

And if necessary, they were also the ones prepared to challenge the Prince's behaviour, if the situation arises.

Serena looked around her, looked at all the solemn faces, the intent, intelligent gazes of these powerful men, and wondered if _she_ was the situation at hand. The thought troubled her.

"What of your people? I must admit that I am not as familiar with Chistonian customs and culture as I would like to be; would you care to indulge me with your opinions?" Kunzite's tone was composed, the diversion flawless, but she knew he had seen her confusion, and was now working to ease that. But as she thought of her own people, thought of the laws that set one's livelihood into stone before they were even born, thought of her own father who, despite being one of the more popular nobles in the country, had lived lavishly and comfortably, a feat that was praised and encouraged by King Diamond.

And she realised then, that she had nothing more to say about her country. Oh, how she longed to defend it and cast her people in a good light to the enemy, but her words would be empty, false, even lies. She would not contradict herself and compromise her own integrity by singing praises for her country in a bout of patriotic blindness.

So instead, Serena managed a smile for Kunzite, and gave him, gave them all, the truth. "My misattributions and accusations of Sairellen society stemmed from the prevalence of such issues I have experienced firsthand in Chiston. We have much to learn from you."

The quiet acknowledgement made under a lonely fig tree weaved into the minds and hearts of the company. The clouds thinned slightly, and for the briefest moment, a beam of sunlight could be seen in the distance. The nearby horses continued to graze, oblivious to the changing currents that swirled around their human masters. And ever so slightly, the corner of Kunzite's lips curled upwards as he returned Serena's smile.

"There is much to learn from each other," the leader of the Shitennou said, and raised his glass. This time, when Serena followed suit, her movements matched the others around her, perfectly timed. They drank to this toast, to the reconciliation and the first foundations for change.

As the meal gradually came to its end and Serena reconsidered all her impressions about this country and its people, she began to see how unreasonable and unfounded her prejudices were. Even as she watched the quietness of the women, it occurred to her that perhaps Lita was right, that perhaps it was the nature of their acquaintance that rendered them so unsolicitous. And perhaps the lack of interaction was due to their dispositions: Amelia's preference for solitude, Rachael's propensity to scathe with her words, Mina's personal insecurities, and even Lita's highly opinionated and differing views. More than anything, this slight shift in perspective made Serena all too aware that she had never had any proper justifications for being so proud and defensive of her own country.

* * *

Serena had been right about one thing: the weather was perfect for flying kites. She was standing beside Darien, their arms occasionally brushing, their attention focused on the large yellow kite that was gliding through the air. It didn't surprise her to see that their kite was a large, magnificent work of art, intricately painted to resemble an eagle. She had held the spool as Darien ran with the kite, letting it soar into the air with a triumphant cry. The others had followed suit, and within minutes, the cloudy sky was filled with the vibrant colours of their respective kites. She marvelled at the responsiveness of the kites, where a slight tug would send it flying in the desired direction.

Her attention was caught by the red kite that had joined them, and a quick glance confirmed that Rachael was behind the manoeuvres. They exchanged a smile, and Serena flicked her own wrist so that their kites were now dancing together.

"You're not trying to bring her down, are you?" Darien said, amusement in his voice. "I thought we agreed not to do any midair bickering."

She responded by laughing quietly. "We're not bickering; we're playing."

"Playing rough now, are we?" he said, breathing against her ear. She was suddenly all too aware of his presence, of his warmth—when had his hands found their way to her waist? "You didn't seem like the type who had a preference"—he closed his mouth over a spot behind her ear, grazing his teeth against her skin—"for rough."

Her knees felt weak, and her hands trembled, causing their kite to swerve. She swallowed, and put as much strength into her voice as she could muster. "Behave yourself, Darien. What would your friends think if they were aware of such wantonness?"

"I doubt Jadeite is concerned with _my_ behaviour at the moment," he said. She risked a glance and saw that the General in question was embracing Rachael with a passion that embarrassed Serena. She looked away, a stain rising to her cheeks.

"I suppose I shall forgive you for having avoided me the past week," she said, keen on smoothly over one of their misunderstandings. "I am sure you were concerned I could not handle such displays of affection between your friends."

Darien chuckled, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. "Not all of my companions are so…transparent."

He was referring to Amelia and Zoisite, who remained a respectable distance apart even as they shared their blue kite. The girl smiled in Serena's direction, though her discomfort was evident in the tense way she was standing.

"Do you suppose there's something going on between those two?" Serena asked Darien, surprising herself in her directness.

"I didn't imagine you to be the gossiping type," he teased. Then his tone grew serious. "We've all been wondering the same thing, perhaps for years. They complement each other perfectly, and yet Lady Amelia seems so uncertain… And Zoisite, bless his soul, is too concerned with her well-being to suggest they enter a relationship that she may regret."

That explained the stolen glances, the companionship the two shared over books. But she knew that despite Amelia's meekness, there was an intelligence and strength in the woman that would not be compromised by anyone. If she had chosen to remain by Zoisite's side, then the decision had belonged to Amelia, and Amelia only.

Her gaze drifted to Mina and Kunzite, who had been paired up to take the white kite. The sight of the two startled her—there was something about the way Kunzite's hand covered Mina's as he helped her navigate that spoke of a long-existing familiarity between the two. And for the first time since their trip, both Mina and Kunzite appeared to be fully relaxed, their eyes sparkling. She wondered yet again about the relationship that existed between them, and frowned at her thoughts; some matters of the heart were best kept away from the realm of prying eyes.

"Well, if you're done with your speculations, I think it's about time that I take over." Serena glared at Darien, but he simply tipped his head towards the others, and Serena turned, seeing how the Shitennou were now in possession of the spools. She looked back at Darien, who simply said, "It's not my fault they want to play rough."

She handed him the spool with some resignation, but all her mood soon turned into exhilaration as the colours above her suddenly blurred into motion. Serena knew she was a good kite flyer, and was proud of her ability to control her kites with a grace akin to that of a ballerina's, but what she saw now was so very different. This was not a playful courtship dance, but a cautious exchange, a measuring of an opponent's strengths and weaknesses. There was nothing friendly about the gliding and diving that now took place—the eagle had turned from an elegant companion to a powerful predator, tearing at its enemies with sharp talons, cutting through enemy lines. One by one they fell, Zoisite first, then Nephrite, and Jadeite in a flash of crimson rage. And then only Darien and Kunzite remained, gold against silver, the two men concentrating on their battle, determined to earn the right to boast of their achievement for the rest of the day, and for many more to come. Serena's heart caught in her throat as Darien pitched his golden eagle to the left, ready to launch the final attack. With the jerk of a hand, Darien's eagle made its dive, its magnificent wings soaring to claim its victory. But it faltered at the last moment as the wind changed and leapt forward as the unforeseen enemy, and Darien was powerless to the slaughter, numbly watching as his eagle was shredded. The fight was over, the battle lost and won, and Kunzite's kite was declared the sole ruler of the heavens.

Yet there was no animosity between the two as they shook hands, congratulating one another on their respective efforts. And when Kunzite finally reeled in his victorious kite, Serena saw that the delicate depiction of the swan had none of its imagined ferocities now that it floated to the ground, and was the embodiment of serenity.

* * *

The sky was darkening, slipping from the late afternoon to the first hints of dusk. As Kunzite's fingers busied themselves with securing the horses' harnesses to the carriages, his mind drifted to Mina, who was helping pack the remnants of their picnic. It had been a long time since he had had the pleasure of spending time with her outside during daytime, and he softened at the recollections of their brief, almost accidental touches. She had visited him in the evenings when her services were no longer required by Serena, but those few hours never seemed to be enough—he always woke up to an empty bed. Her absence, however necessary, had nagged at Kunzite, and the General found himself spending his free time thinking of the next time they would meet. He knew he had his duties and obligations to fulfil and his business with Mina would always be secondary, but the lack of her company had made him more uneasy than it ought to.

His thoughts were quickly quelled when the General noticed another presence approaching him. His senses never failed him, and he immediately identified the newcomer.

"Lady Serenity," he said, his gaze not moving from his fingers' work, "is there anything I can assist you with?"

The woman stopped when she was beside him. "I was wondering if I could provide you with the assistance, Lord Kunzite."

He doubted she could be much use in helping with what was the men's arena, but his instincts told him not to dismiss her so quickly. "The horses need to be secured to their harnesses," he said, wondering if his instructions were intelligible to her. "It is not a particularly difficult job, but one must be very thorough to ensure that no accidents will occur while on the road."

She nodded, and moved to the other side, wordlessly obeying him by working on the other horse. Kunzite raised an eyebrow, but said nothing—he would indulge her for now, and re-secure the harnesses later.

A few moments of silence had passed before Serena spoke, confirming Kunzite's suspicions about her feigned assistance. "I hope your opinions of me have not diminished after our little exchange earlier."

"That, of course, depends on whether I had an opinion in the first place," he said mildly.

It must have hurt her, but Kunzite did not have the time to feel guilty. "And I suppose you wish for such business to remain private," she replied. He glanced up at her, but found that she was concentrating on her task; the harsh words could not be retracted. Remembering Darien's plea to the Shitennou and his own promise, Kunzite spoke again.

"It takes a great deal of courage to admit that one is wrong," he said, not only as a compliment, but as his own apology. She seemed to understand it, and Kunzite saw a nod in his peripheral vision.

"I am hoping that you will take my words seriously," she continued, still not sparing him a look. Her voice dropped, and she said more softly, "There is much that I would like to learn from you, Lord Kunzite."

Her straightforward statement unnerved him in a way he did not understand. He was the leader of the Shitennou, a powerful man who had dealt with his fair share of problems—how was it then, that Serena's honest willingness to be educated puzzled and startled him?

Knowing all too well what he should say in response and yet not wanting to make a false promise, Kunzite said slowly, "I shall see what I can do, Lady."

She seemed satisfied with his response, and left him to his own thoughts as they continued working in silence, with only the sound of tightening leather and buckles passing between them. When they had finally finished, Serena caught the General's gaze, and said, "I hope your high opinion of servants serve you just as well in practise, Lord Kunzite. I am looking forward to observing more of your interactions with the particular group."

And then Serena was gone, leaving him to process what was not simply a statement, but a warning. The girl had an idea of what was going on between Mina and himself, but valued their discretion. Nonetheless, Kunzite found himself frustrated at how such an unknown third party was involved in his affairs. Having finished with his own horse, Kunzite marched to the other side, only to find that the harness was firmly secured, the knots and ties as neat as his own. He instantly scanned the area for Serena, and found her to be encouraging the women to hold a mutual conversation, a feat that never had been accomplished before.

For all of her frivolous exterior, Serenity Angelline was certainly a skilled diplomat. Kunzite was willing to acknowledge that much.

* * *

Dinner was a relatively pleasant affair. Their activities throughout the day had left them tired, and Mina was glad to be finally sitting down on the chair at the dining table. After returning to the palace, it was decided that they would all dine together after a change of clothes. Mina felt a mixture of relief and agitation when she was also invited; it was becoming more difficult to maintain her ruse when in the presence of so many people who knew her. Finding no way to excuse herself from the company without appearing impolite and ungrateful, Mina obliged. She even allowed Serena to coax her into a lovely yellow dress, though she had a feeling the other girl was testing to see whether the Shitennou kept to their word. It would not be difficult, Mina thought, for them to treat her as one of their equals—after all, she had been sitting among the same dining table for years before Serena's arrival.

Their food was served, and Mina quietly waited for one of the Shitennou to make the customary toast before eating commenced. The honours usually fell to the Prince by default, but Serena's presence had changed the atmosphere, tipping the authority to the Shitennou's favour. Mina was not surprised to see Kunzite lift his glass, and she took the moment to observe his features, the long black hair that ran past his shoulders, the deep, dark eyes that held secrets she could not fathom.

"It has been a long time since the seats of this dining room have been filled," he said, his baritone voice resonating through the room. "I am very pleased to be sharing this table with each and every one of you."

His gaze lingered over Mina, and for the tiniest moment, she saw something flash in his eyes, something she did not have the time to recognise. But then it was gone, and Kunzite was looking at Serena, a small smile on his lips. They drank their wine as one, and began eating.

If Serena noticed how adept Mina was with her cutlery, the girl did not show it. Instead, Serena turned to Mina, and said, "Would you like some pepper?"

She smiled, remembering Kunzite telling her of Serena's first experience with Sairellen etiquette at the ball, and passed the small jar to Serena, who took it gratefully. "Is there anything else you require, miss?"

Serena did not seem pleased with the words. "You are here as an equal, Mina," she said. "Please, call me Serena."

Mina vaguely recalled hearing the same thing from her only a few weeks ago, when Mina first introduced herself to the girl. The coolness was still present in Serena, somewhere under the courteous surface, but Mina saw the change, the warmth in her eyes, in her voice. The thought of lying to such warmth, such trust, triggered a helplessness in Mina, and she wondered at her own integrity, to have deceived the girl for so long.

"If you don't object, Serena."

The girl's features were lit with such heartfelt happiness that Mina could only duck her head in embarrassment. She knew Serena would have interpreted her reaction as a result of having finally referred to the girl by her first name, and that thought increased the shame and anger that was now flowing through her. It was not as if the poor girl deserved such treatment; Mina risked a glare in Darien's direction, though the Prince did not notice.

Mina paid little heed to her surroundings throughout the meal, content to simply eat her meal in silence. Although she was acquainted with those who sat along the table, Mina had never found much reason to converse with them beyond the polite greetings. They knew that they were all here because of the Shitennou, and it was the men's conversations that always carried out for hours. So when Serena broke off from a discussion with the Countess to ask for her opinion, Mina was sure her surprise was evident.

"Excuse me?" Mina said, trying to gather her thoughts.

"Lita and I have been discussing whether women should have the right to own property and be given the power to rule under their own name," Serena said, repeating the earlier words that Mina had not heard, "and I was wondering what your thoughts on this are."

Mina knew that the Countess had been managing her estate for years without answering to a male, but why Serena would ask for a servant's opinion was beyond her. After all, it wasn't as if Mina would ever find herself in such a situation. "I've never really thought about it," she replied honestly, "though I'm not sure whether such rights should be freely granted." Mina paused and gave a slight bow in Lita's direction. "No offense intended, my Lady."

She thought her participation was over, but was proved wrong when Serena asked, "Why not?"

"Because I don't think women can spare the time to overlook such things," Mina said, wondering whether her opinion mattered. Serena, however, considered her words seriously, and surprised them all by looking across the table, straight at Amelia.

"Amelia? What do you think?"

The quiet girl looked as startled as Mina felt, but she seemed to recover considerably well. "I'm not sure whether I'm in the position to speak," she replied hesitantly.

That stirred a reaction in Serena. "And why is that, Amelia?" Serena's voice was sharp, and Mina heard the anger in those words.

"It is the men who are entitled to such discussions," Amelia said softly. Although Mina found herself agreeing with her, she could not help resenting the situation.

But Rachael, who had been listening to the conversation in quiet interest, now took the initiative to speak. "I don't think you should be so harsh on our sex, Lady Amelia."

"I believe it would be beneficial of you to learn not to speak out of turn, Lady Rachael," Amelia replied coolly.

Mina saw the shift in the two women, their tensed shoulders an indication of their readiness to enter the argument. But before either could launch the first assault, Serena spoke, silencing them.

"Rachael, I would love to hear your thoughts on this matter, considering your own familial relationships. Amelia, your input would also be highly appreciated, as you are perhaps the most well-read of us all here. Perhaps your literary pursuits have given you a fresh perspective that would prove to be enlightening."

From the corner of her eyes, Mina saw Kunzite shift his attention to the women, though he continued his discussion with Jadeite without missing a beat. Rachael and Amelia were now regarding each other with wary expressions, though they were hesitant to make their disparaging remarks.

Feeling as if she should make an attempt to show her support for Serena, Mina said, "I think Lady Amelia is right in saying that the men are the ones who usually hold such discussions, but I don't see why we shouldn't be able to express our own opinions."

The Countess had caught on to Mina's train of thought, and nodded. "As Serena said, our differing backgrounds simply mean we each have a lot to offer and much to learn."

"Well then, Lita," Serena said, "would you care to share your own experience with the rest of us?"

The Countess was only too happy to oblige, although Mina had a feeling Lita had already relayed such details to Serena, and was now repeating them for their benefit. "My parents passed away when I was little, and having no direct relatives, I inherited their estate. Of course, there are certain laws that make such achievements difficult, and I was not without help. I was advised to pledge my intentions to marry and produce an heir as soon as the time came—until that time, I would only be managing my estate and grounds by proxy of a future son who was not yet conceived. As I grew older and asserted my independence to the council, it became clear that I was not in such a hurry to find my match. They tried to pressure me to make my decision by presenting me with swarms of suitors, but I turned each one down with a conviction that they could not refute. After all, it was only one's parents who could command one to marry, and mine were long gone. The council would have decided to retract their decision and reassign another to take away what was rightfully mine, if they did not start to realise that my estate was always kept in good condition, and that my tenants of the surrounding land were generating a large revenue. The people knew of my situation and were sympathetic, and after some discussions, they agreed to contribute a larger amount of taxes than necessary. This placated the council, and they reluctantly allowed me to keep my position."

The silence that followed Lita's long retelling was not broken by even the Shitennou. But they recognised this moment for what it was, and respectfully turned their heads away.

It was Amelia who finally spoke. "I had always wondered how you were given the right to manage your own estate without a husband. It is really something to admire."

Lita smiled, a gracious, genuine light in her eyes. "I feel as if I am always given more credit than I deserve," she said, "for my fortunate position would not have been attained if it were not for the support of my people and the assistance of my advisors."

"Does the council still trouble you?" Amelia asked.

"They occasionally request to take a tour of the grounds, but they are pleased with its condition. I think their original oppositions were mostly based on their reservations about whether a woman was able to manage such a large amount of property and land."

Rachael spoke now, her voice clearly respectful. "Has it been difficult? You have quite a lot of land under your name."

"I had to sit through long hours of lectures from my advisors, who instructed me on the art of management. But those men had taught my parents, and were keen on helping me assert and retain my position." Lita stopped to consider for a while, and then continued. "I believe Lady Mina's views are very well-justified—the task is difficult and demanding, and not all women will be able to succeed."

"If we're talking about natural ability and talent," Rachael said, "then it could be argued that not all men are able to rule with complete success."

"You're absolutely correct," Lita agreed. "That is why several castes exist within men, within our society."

Serena cut in, frowning. "When you put it that way, then I see no reason why such laws disallowing women to inherit and rule exist in the first place."

"I think it's more complicated than just that, Serena," Mina said. The attention she was suddenly getting was somewhat unnerving, but she felt at ease to speak her mind. "Women have more factors to consider, responsibilities that might impact upon their judgements." Serena didn't seem surprised at the change in Mina's demeanour, in her sudden eloquent speech, and Mina found herself free to continue. "I am sure that our male counterparts are envious of our ability to reproduce, but carrying a child for so many months, facing the dangers of giving birth and spending the months to recover would render a woman helpless to make the important decisions that may be needed at the time."

"Not to mention," Lita added, "it is the women who are in charge of the household and the servants. There are days when I can barely manage to oversee both my staff and my tenants and deal with the numerous mathematical calculations that are required for each task."

"I have read of instances, or depictions, of these traditional roles being reversed," Amelia said quietly, offering her own thoughts. "Of course, it is not a very common practice, though it has been hinted that males who are put in charge of a household are likely to find themselves in quite a bit of strife and don't fare so well."

Her comments lightened the atmosphere, and smiles played on the women's lips. "My father made such an attempt once," Rachael chipped in, "in order to chastise my mother for something she had done. But his plan backfired, and it was my mother who emerged victorious, when the household erupted into chaos under my father's incompetency."

They laughed, finding great amusement in the thought of how males could be so easily rendered powerless. "Sometimes," Serena said, once they had calmed down, "I wonder if the lack of our rights are due to the men's belief that we are the duller sex, and are naturally less intelligent."

"That is deserving of some laughter," Rachael replied, dark eyes glittering. "I doubt my father is half as well-read as Amelia."

The impersonal address seemed to surprise the quiet girl momentarily, but she quickly recovered and smiled at the compliment, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. "Speaking of literature," Amelia said, "I find it unfortunate that it is not a very well-known fact that the first novel ever written was penned by a female."

They were all surprised by the fact, and Rachael said, "Is that so? One of my tutors made a point of boring me to death with his unending droning about Cervantes and _Don Quixote_, because it was considered to be the first. Naturally, he was male."

"Your tutor must have discounted literature from other less-known cultures," Amelia replied, shaking her head in disapproval. "The first novel, _The Tale of Genji_, was written about a thousand years before Cervantes was old enough to possess an adequate quill."

Lita snorted at the insinuation, which brought smiles to their faces again. "At this rate we're going," she said, "I'm sure we will soon unearth proof that it is the women who are responsible for the establishment of civilisation."

The discussion continued in the light manner, without a clear resolution for the original topic. As Mina listened attentively to Amelia reporting the findings that supported Lita's statement, she quickly glanced at Serena. The girl was sitting back in her seat, two fingers loosely curled around the stem of her half-filled wine glass that was on the table, clearly satisfied. When Mina first clenched her jaw as she curtsied to the bitter Chistonian prisoner, she would have never thought the same cold woman could manage a feat that she had never believed possible. But by some brilliant manoeuvre and an openness towards her acquaintances, Serena had united four women of differing backgrounds who had never looked upon one another with anything more than cool acknowledgement. And as Mina took the time to fully appreciate what this warm, bright-eyed Lady had done, she vowed to treat Serena with all the respect that was deserved.

* * *

AN: Please review!


	15. Chapter 14

**As the Eagle Flies**

Hi everyone, I hope you've all had a wonderful break during the Christmas and the New Year. The season was unexpectedly busy for me, and I'm sorry it took a month for this chapter to be released. Please enjoy it!

Also, I know this may sound very stupid and technologically inept of me, but I only recently learned about the ability to reply to reviews and to send messages via this site. (In my defence, I first stumbled upon this site in the year 2000.) If you leave any questions in your review, I will endeavour to answer them ASAP!

* * *

Chapter 14

It was not particularly late when the Shitennou and their Ladies finally parted after dinner, but Mina could appreciate it when Serena spoke of welcoming a long bath and a good night's rest. Once the women had started to warm to one another, they had spoken to each other with a familiarity that continued for hours, and Mina was surprised to find she enjoyed their company immensely. Despite being in court for more than three years, Mina had never properly spoken to Rachael or Amelia, and her knowledge of the Countess was limited to hearsay.

Having returned to Serena's suite of rooms, Mina started to feel tense again, unsure about the manner she should adopt. Her decision was quickly made, however, when Serena announced that she was going to take a bath.

"I'll make the preparations, miss," Mina said, curtsying. The movements and the words seemed wrong after their casualness that evening.

"I don't think that's necessary, Mina," Serena replied. Her tone was stern, and though Mina knew there was no room for contention, she tried to protest.

"But, miss—"

"Let's not waste our time with such pretentious and meaningless arguments," Serena said. She paused, carefully considering her next words. "I understand you are under no obligation to tell me of your past, but I would appreciate it if you could be yourself when in my presence. I am not your mistress, and you are not my servant—please, let us proceed as friends."

Mina nodded, her throat tight. For a moment she was ready to drop all her pretences, but Serena had turned around, breaking their eye contact. The girl had almost left the room when she hesitated, and said, "Mina, it seems we have a lot to talk about. Perhaps if you could oblige me in the morrow?"

What little courage Mina had gained was lost, and she could only murmur her agreement before Serena disappeared from the room. Fingering the fine material of her cream dress, Mina wondered, not for the first time, where she belonged in the world. Her attention to Serena for the last few weeks was not unnatural to her; Mina was sure it was her previous experience as a servant that had recommended itself to the Prince. But her time today with Kunzite, with the Shitennou and their Ladies, left the same familiar taste in her mouth, the delicate balance between formality and intimacy, like a glass of fine wine. Granted, Serena's presence had matured the wine to its full richness, but the comfort, the ease, the little things that had built this new lifestyle, had remained unchanged. And yet there was still the same prick of dissatisfaction, the fear that had brewed for the last three years, spreading itself as she turned a blind eye. Would those uncertainties ever reach a seamless resolution?

A sound at the door prompted Mina to straighten instinctively, and she was not surprised when she saw the Prince enter the room, his eyes searching. He quickly hid his disappointment when the one he sought was not in sight.

"Lady Mina," he said, bowing. "Has Lady Serena retired for the night?"

"She is taking her bath," Mina replied with a curtsy of her own.

"And you are not assisting her?"

Mina offered the Prince a wry smile. "If my presence in the bathing room prevents the Lady from drowning, I'm sure I would have noticed by now." Seeing a dangerous flash in Darien's eyes, Mina sighed. "She has never found pleasure in being serviced. I think her feelings have strengthened since today's set of adventures."

"What has called for such assumptions?"

"She is a very perceptive Lady, my Lord. My behaviour today is hardly reminiscent of a servant, and she is bound to have made her own conclusions by now."

The Prince seemed only intent on knowing one thing. "And how much have you told her, Mina?"

"I have revealed as much as necessary," she replied. "A lie cannot be more convincing than a truth with a few very particular omissions."

Darien thought about that for a while, before slowly nodding. "Sometimes the two aren't so different after all."

"Please take care with such thoughts—it is dangerous to be carried away and to start believing in the makeshift details yourself."

The warning was heard, and the Prince bowed. "Please send my regards to Lord Kunzite."

Mina kept herself from commenting that he had just parted with the Shitennou, and lowered herself at the dismissal. She would not deny that the Prince had changed considerably recently, but a command was still a command. Besides, Mina had other things to worry about than what was going on between her temporary mistress and the ruler of her country. When she looked up to offer him another curtsy, the Prince had already left.

* * *

Serena had already bathed and crawled into bed, her limbs heavy, when she heard two knocks on her bedroom door. It opened, and the light from the outside room cast a thin line on the floor before slowly unfolding. She sat up in bed, then sighed when she saw the visitor and eased back down.

"If it's not important," she said, almost a grumble, "then please come back in the morning."

She heard Darien walk towards her, saw his shadow cast by the low fire that burned in the hearth. "I suppose you're tired?"

"That's an understatement," she replied. She knew they had quite a bit to talk about, matters to smooth and agreements to be made; now was simply not the best time. "Please accept my apologies in advance if I end up falling asleep on you."

He was at her side now, sitting on the edge of the bed, his head close to her own. The proximity of his voice almost startled her. "So you like to be rough, and in control?"

Serena groaned. "Please Darien, not now. I would be happily asleep by now, were it not for your rude intrusion."

"My apologies," he murmured in her ear. She doubted his sincerity, but she could not help sighing at the comforting feel of his fingers against her cheek. "I seem to be having trouble sleeping."

Serena stiffened, thinking she knew what he was proposing. "I don't want anyone to get the wrong impression about us, Darien."

"And what impression would that be?" His voice was cool, distant. She turned to see that he had straightened.

"Must we discuss this now?" She reached out a hand, lightly touching his arm. "I'm exhausted, Darien, I really am."

Even in the dim light, she could see his expression turning into one of understanding. "I'm sure you are, with all the challenging discussions you've had today."

She remembered Kunzite, remembered the Ladies, and to her frustration, felt her mind sharpen. Her body protested—she wanted some well-deserved rest. "Are you here to chide me for my opinions?"

He bent down to place a soft kiss on her forehead. "Quite the opposite. What you said was simply fascinating."

"And not always entirely correct," she said. She breathed deeply, trying to find the correct words. "Darien, I—"

He silenced her, pressing a finger to her lips. "Tomorrow, Serena," he murmured. "We'll talk about it tomorrow." He gently kissed the corner of her mouth, and when Serena did not protest, he brushed his lips against hers, once, twice, thrice. Feeling the slight change in her responses, Darien pulled away. "May I stay with you tonight?"

His sincere look made it clear to Serena that he only wanted her company, and finding no room to object, Serena nodded. Darien smiled, and Serena turned away, allowing him to undress. She had almost began to wonder about her decision, but those thoughts didn't have much time to form—Darien had slipped into bed beside her, his warmth pulling at her. Serena gave in to her instincts, and within moments, they had moulded their bodies to fit each other's. Safe and protected in his arms, Serena drifted to sleep.

* * *

Mina entered Kunzite's suite of rooms wordlessly, closing the door behind her. He had expected her arrival, and despite the uncertainties that had been welling, Mina gave the General a dazzling smile.

"My favourite Lady has finally arrived," Kunzite said, kissing the back of her hand. His other arm wrapped around her back, and he pulled her to him, giving her a more generous kiss. When they broke apart, they were both breathless. "I couldn't stop thinking about you, Mina."

The desire in his eyes lit her own burning flame, but the fire could not touch the cool pool of reservation that had gathered. But she knew how rare it was to have him here, this close with her, and every evening they spent together was a blessing that was infrequently granted. Even now, as Kunzite left a trail of kisses down her neck, Mina knew that their pleasure would be short-lived, thoroughly doused when morning came. For all she knew, the heat that emanated from his body now could be covered with cold metal armour the next day, and they would both be none the wiser. Perhaps it was this last thought that propelled her into action.

"Why, Lord Kunzite," she said, pulling back from him slightly, "would you say that your behaviour is bordering on inappropriate?"

The game was a familiar one, and Kunzite slipped easily into his role. One of his rare smiles, the curve of his lips and the light in his eyes, was, to Mina's surprise, not as consoling as she hoped it would be. "I believe you were aware of the conditions of your contract," he responded. The General's gaze swept over Mina's body, his smile widening.

"I'm not quite sure whether I understand you," Mina replied, glad that the slight waver in her voice would be attributed to her performance. They had assumed the same roles countless times before, and the effortlessness scared her. "I was under the impression that you required me to perform a few daily tasks while in your personal service."

He nodded, then leaned in for a kiss.

She swatted him away playfully. "Pray tell, what are the specifics of those tasks?"

Mina knew from experience that this was Kunzite's favourite part, and the way he looked at her told her she was right. "Just a few routine things here and there," he said, placing kisses on her forehead, her eyes, her nose. She trembled a little, though she did not know why. "I've never been good at explaining with words, so perhaps you would be kind enough to assist me with a demonstration?"

"I am completely in your service, Lord Kunzite. Do with me what you will."

His fingers were warm against her skin as he lifted her chin to meet his eyes. Something in his expression changed, something she could not quite fathom. Her chest ached, and Mina felt an urge to cry as he bent to her ear, and whispered, "Those are the sweetest words I've ever heard."

Perhaps it was because she knew it was all pretend, that it was simply ridiculous of her to have started believing in an exchange that served as a pleasant passing of time. Perhaps it was the sincerity in his voice, in his kisses and caresses that smothered her ability to string together conscious thought even as she doubted, that she wanted to hold onto but couldn't, simply because of who he was, who _she_ was. Or perhaps it was just because, when the time came for revelations, Mina would be forced to admit that her own sentiments were completely grounded in reality.

So when they both tumbled into his bed, Mina savoured each one of his touches, his murmurs, his breaths, because she knew it could be their last. Tomorrow may be a new day that would be marked not as another summon for battle, but the realisation that she was not who he wanted. And despite her attempts to remove those thoughts from her mind as he undressed her with reverent movements, they remained with her even as her clothing fell from her in pools of green and gold.

He entered her in one quick stroke, burying himself in her warmth. They both let out a cry, hers soft, almost a whimper, his a guttural sound from the back of his throat. He kissed her as they moved together, on her lips, her face, her neck, and with every hot touch, Mina felt herself spinning further away from where she was. It was almost surreal—in her mind's eyes, she could see herself sprawled beneath Kunzite, her legs tightly wrapped around his, her body meeting his thrusts as the sounds of pleasure were released by them both. She would not deny that she enjoyed him as much as he took pleasure from her, but that did not stop a certain ache growing in her chest, a stifling pressure that had nothing to do with what they were doing. Or perhaps, it had everything to do with their rendezvous, the culmination of their relationship. Was there even a chance for there to be anything more than what they had now, this simple act of copulation that spanned through the ages and still persists, because it is spurred by the most basic of human needs?

Mina could not help it as the thoughts, the feelings, began to overwhelm her as her body was taken to new heights. The pressure became too much, and as they both cried out at the cusp of their lovemaking, she burst with something beautiful, something she could not quite name. And when their breathing slowed and he withdrew from her, it was still there, clinging onto the edge of her face.

The sudden tenseness in his body told her he saw it, though he did not know what it represented. He brushed his lips against her cheeks, running a hand through her hair.

"Sweetheart? Why are you crying?"

She shook her head, and closed her eyes, turning her body to the side so she could bury her face in his chest. Kunzite held her to him, his hands soothing. She still remembered the expression he had when he first saw her cry, the day he rescued her from a crueller fate—though his dark eyes had been full of anger, he seemed so brittle that he might break into something more than rage. Mina had resolved never to share her tears with him again, and now that she had inadvertently broken her silent promise, the girl could only hide.

"Mina?" His whisper was thunder to her ears. "Will you talk to me?"

No, she could not tell him the truth, could not put into words the feelings that have choked her for the past few months. The leader of the Shitennou deserved more than having to deal with the unrealistic expectations of a melodramatic girl to pay him back for his kindness. She would not be like one of the others.

"I'm okay," she said, pulling back from him slightly so she could look into his eyes. "I'm just overwhelmed with the intensity, that's all."

He observed her for a long time, making her wonder if he believed her, and then nodded, his arms tightening around her. He released her temporarily to pull the covers up, and though she was still uncertain, Mina felt the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with her. She pushed aside all thoughts to be dealt with at another time, and settled herself in Kunzite's arms, the steady rhythm of his beating heart as calming as the hands that gently caressed her back.

She was half-asleep when she felt his lips move against her hair. "I know exactly how you feel," he murmured. Perhaps it was the tenderness in his voice, or her own tiredness that made her believe him, just for a moment. And then the fatigue took hold of her, and there were no more thoughts for the rest of the night.

* * *

Darien smiled as he gradually eased into the conscious world. The weight on his chest told him what his dreams had shown him in teasing whispers: the one woman who had managed to capture him so wholly was lying in his arms, her breathing a steady tickle against his skin. As Darien slowly opened his eyes, the sight unfolded before him like the curtains rising from a stage, revealing the artistic masterpiece that lay waiting behind. And here she was, her long lashes, her small nose, her pink lips that reminded him of a spring morning, or a winter's evening by the fireplace. The feelings Darien had when he first saw her like this, silent and asleep, on the night of the masquerade ball, had only sprouted a myriad of other feelings, all of them unique and wonderful, all of them with an added element of conviction of which he would not have thought himself capable. He sought words to describe those feelings, to describe the image of perfection before him, but he could no better walk on water. At another time he might have been frustrated with not knowing the exact label to a particular sentiment, but for now, Darien was simply content with the mysterious, with the sense of adventure and the leagues of undiscovered territory for him, for them, to explore.

That thought, however comforting and exciting, instantly reminded him of his deception, of his current position that deemed the lies necessary. The few moments of peace and pleasure he gained in the early hours of the morning disappeared, and Darien effortlessly slipped into the mindset of a ruler, of the one who oversaw all matters of his country. He knew without a doubt that time was running out—if it had been passing in a trickle during the past few weeks, then it had definitely accelerated to a torrent. Whatever decision he needed to make for Sairelle would have to come soon, before the winter began setting in and transforming the lands into an unforgiving force of nature that became an extra enemy in their battles. And, perhaps then, the woman in his arms would not think so highly of him, would not recall the memories of their time together with fondness.

She stirred, and Darien felt the Prince fall away more quickly than it had in more than a decade. The concerns for the war quietened to a soft humming that was waiting to re-emerge, as did the prickling fear of losing her. For now, they were two people whose first conscious thought in the morning was about the other, and nothing in the world could take that away from him.

He brushed a finger across her forehead, smiling as she sighed and nuzzled his chest. Serena mumbled something before stilling and beginning to open her cloudy eyes; recognising this as the moment where she crossed the line into reality, Darien gently extracted her from his chest and kissed her lightly, just below her mouth. This time he felt her smile before she tilted her head towards him and kissed him more fully. Her lips were as soft and warm as he had remembered, and they lazily brushed against his in a slow, sensuous dance.

He pulled away before their mild morning greeting turned into something more, though his hands continued to play with her hair, marvelling at its silkiness.

"Are you well-rested, my Lady?" Her clear, cerulean eyes told him the answer to that, but he longed to hear her voice.

"Very much so," she replied, the last wisps of sleep still audible. She seemed content and relaxed, and Darien found himself wanting to be by her side to spend those precious moments when the world only had room for the two of them. And then, just like he had earlier, the knowledge and memories from the days that preceded this one gradually returned to her, and Darien could only watch as Serena shifted into the woman who was Serenity Angelline.

"What did you want to discuss last night?" That one question and the neutral tone in which it was delivered, told Darien all too much about Serena's personality. She would always try to be fair and honest, forsaking her own emotions and feelings for her integrity. And it would be perfect for his plans.

"You, me; us." He gave her the same direct treatment, and though he saw the discomfort that was brought by his words, he knew she appreciated his forthright manner. "Where we stand."

"We are all too aware of my position while I remain within the borders of Sairelle," she said, without a trace of dishonesty. "The last thing I want is to subject others to punishment that could be easily avoided had they chosen to keep their distance."

Darien knew she would bring up this point, and he had his own argument ready. "The Prince is not the ultimate law in this country. We have people too, powerful people, who would remain at our sides."

"And how much leeway are the Shitennou given? How much can they wander from their orders before their actions are regarded as treason?"

He foresaw this too. "How do you think the Prince will ever find out?" His soft voice stopped her protests, and her expression changed. "Where do you think he is, right now? The mighty Prince of Sairelle, where do you think he has been, once this war started and his sovereignty threatened?"

She seemed to consider this, and though Darien should have felt triumph at how easily she was drinking his lies, there was only remorse, a sick feeling in his stomach as he continued to spin the web of deception that came so easily to him.

"It's not a publicised fact, the Prince's prolonged retreats into his own domains." Darien thought about how it wasn't completely a lie—he enjoyed his privacy and spent a great majority of his time conducting his business from his study.

"I don't understand," she said, frowning. Darien could appreciate that she had attempted to solve the riddles that governed this country for the past few weeks, riddles that unveiled more questions than answers.

And what could he tell her, that was remotely close to the truth, without revealing who he was? He had known from the beginning that this would be a battle of tongues and wits, not of swords and bows, and he had taken it on without a further thought. Now he only wanted to flee from her sincere gaze, to tuck away their confrontation, to prolong it for as long as he could.

"The King, the Prince, and the Shitennou all have their own sets of powers, their own rights. The Shitennou are the ones who are doing all the fighting in this war, and the Prince simply needs to oversee the affairs from afar." His lies were intricately woven, but Darien knew that she would see a loophole, sense a fact that did not quite coincide with the rest. But for now, Serena seemed appeased, and Darien swallowed before offering, "Would you like me to try to explain this in more detail?"

He could not fathom the expression she held, but her pensiveness was not to be disregarded. When she responded, Darien felt the familiar mixture of relief and despair that he had been contending with as of late.

"I thank you, but no," Serena said, her voice clear and firm. "Words can only do so much to serve as an explanation, and I think I would much rather try to make my conclusions based on my own observations."

It was a fair point, and Darien had expected no less from her. Although he was relieved at her reaction, Darien kept his own expression neutral as he spoke again.

"I wish I could resent this war, but I cannot deny its necessities. I'm sorry that it has caused you so much pain, but I will only be thankful for what's going to happen, for the peace that will finally ensue once all of this is over."

He felt her draw away from him before she voiced her thoughts. "Necessity? Of what are you speaking?"

"Our countries have been hostile towards each other for so many years, I think that this war will find an end to all the animosity and finally establish peace in the lands once more."

"You speak of peace as if it's a trinket that can be obtained through money, through the exchange of goods, not through the very blood and flesh of my people, of _your_ own people."

Darien noted her disgust, but he was adamant on presenting his own case. "Once the lands are united, there will be no more hostility. Don't you wish for that, Serena?"

"If the uniting came not from the lives of people, but through negotiation, through civil behaviour, then yes, I wish for that."

"And how do you suppose that would be achieved?" They had both prepared for the arrival of his question. "Do you really think that your people will be happy to listen to ours, to make worthless treaties that won't end up being honoured?"

She had no response to that.

"I wonder if you remember what happened, thirteen years ago, when we did not manage to see through the treachery of your most honourable King Diamond." A glance at her told him she had little memory of the events. But there was comprehension there, and Darien wondered whether the scholars of Chiston relayed the same version of events as those of Sairelle. "We wanted to stop the fighting then, and a peace treaty seemed like the best way to solve our differences. How stupid we must have been, how stupid King Endymion must have been, to think that Diamond would not turn back on his word and ambush the capital when we least expected it."

Darien paused, feeling the fear return to him in their predetermined waves. The shouts, the confusion, the cries of terror in the night as Diamond's soldiers breeched the defences of the city and trampled through it, killing all in sight. All the discussions of a treaty, all of Diamond's insistence of having a portion of his militia beside him through the negotiations, had just been a ploy to appeal to the better nature of King Endymion. Trusting Diamond had caused Sairelle thousands of its people's lives, of its Queen.

"We won't make the same mistake twice," Darien said, his mouth tight. "We have kept to ourselves during the past few years, harbouring the memories of all the innocents we lost on an unexpected winter night. There will be a war this time, an end to the years of disagreements and displeasure that has passed between our countries. And this time, Sairelle will win."

His conviction resounded through the room, but Darien's thoughts were not as sure as his words. Their preparation and plans ensured more success on their part than on Chiston's, but so much still depended on the woman looking at him with the serious eyes that stripped him to the bone. He felt a tingle run down his spine when she finally spoke.

"Your actions will only cause more pain, more loss of innocent lives. Would you be content when the peace you speak of is achieved in the same way that the betrayal was presented to you, all those years ago?"

"We can only try to fight for what we believe in, Serena." He drew in a deep breath, feeling her eyes on him. "And if there was any other way to reach this goal, to bring together our two countries and live in harmony without any bloodshed, then I would grasp it eagerly with both hands. But only one path lies before us, one that requires the most vicious of battles to be fought."

"How can you be sure?" Her tone was reluctant, her body tense. "How can you be sure that another path doesn't exist, that there is no other way?"

He gave her a gentle smile, knowing that she was on the verge of offering what he had wanted to hear. But there was no use to rush her, for her to make her decision on a whim—if Sairelle was to receive the support of Serenity Angelline, it must be gained through changing her entire set of beliefs, not a word or two that resulted from a flash of pity. So he was content with the initial stages that would eventually lead to her cooperation, and was more concerned about betraying none of his sentiments.

"Because despite our most concentrated attempts, we haven't found the miraculous solution." He brushed his fingers across her cheek, revelling in the cool skin beneath his. "I think we have dallied here too long, and perhaps it would be wise to make our way to breakfast before our friends take advantage of our absence."

* * *

As soon as Mina closed the door to Serena's chambers, she saw Serena's shoulders slump, a sigh escaping from her lips. When Mina had made her way to the other girl, Serena was sitting on one of the dining chairs, lost in her own thoughts.

"Serena?" The unadorned, precise way in which Mina voiced herself seemed to bring Serena out of her reverie. "Are you feeling all right?"

They had spent the majority of the day together in the company of the Shitennou and the other ladies, and Mina had seen the moments where Serena's responses slipped into absent-minded nodding. From the way Serena had continuously averted the Prince's gaze, Mina had an idea of what was on the other girl's mind.

"I'm fine, thank you," Serena replied. Then, as an afterthought, she added, "I'm just a little tired."

Content to give Serena her space, Mina simply nodded. "Is there anything else you require of me tonight?"

Perhaps it was the subservience that earned her a hard look from Serena. "Mina, please drop those pretences."

And perhaps it was the uncanniness of the situation, of how the two women from completely different backgrounds had found themselves sharing the same room, that allowed her to do just that. When Mina spoke again, her voice had the cultured edge that had taken years to acquire.

"You must have questions then, just as I have answers."

It was not a question, but Serena nodded nonetheless. "And what would you be willing to tell me first?"

Mina knew she was on dangerous grounds, but there was something compelling about the atmosphere, about what they had inadvertently shared, and Mina knew she could not simply walk away without leaving something more for Serena to think about. But the fear, however well-controlled, was still there, and Mina spoke of the first topic that came to mind, affairs not of the state, but of the heart.

"I suppose you want to know of my relationship with Kunzite?"

The bluntness and the change of tone did not faze Serena. "I am curious and concerned, yes, but again, you are under no obligation."

Mina thought about the girl who had been truthful to herself, who, despite their differences, had been so accommodating to them all. She thought about the girl who had given her hope, had instigated a companionship with Mina's own people. And she thought about how the girl's actions had been all selfless, when she had no reason to have acted on their behalf at all.

"Lord Kunzite and I are involved," Mina replied.

"After he rescued you?"

A week ago, Mina would have been surprised that Serena had remembered the fragments of the truth that she told the girl—now, she only nodded solemnly.

"Yes." Let her guess—and if she came to the correct conclusion on her own, then so be it. Mina would not deny it, if Serena asked her for the truth.

"Before you packed your bags, and came to wait upon me?"

"Yes." It was so, so long ago, and Serena only had to ask the right question before Mina revealed the truth.

But to Mina's disappointment, Serena did not continue—after all, the girl found no reason to be suspicious, and her questions only stemmed from her concern.

"Are you happy with your situation?" Serena's soft voice, laced with worry, hurt Mina more than any accusation or abuse—that, at least, would be well-justified.

"He treats me well, and it's more than I can ask for."

Despite the earlier confrontation with Kunzite, Serena was still uncertain about the treatment of servants. Mina longed for the girl to ask for the length of their relationship, but she knew she would receive no reprieve. Serena was clearly angry and disapproving, but all for the wrong reasons.

"You should not think so little of yourself," the girl said. Mina suddenly recalled, all too clearly, what she had told Serena during their first proper conversation. A servant is born of a servant, a prince of a king; no wishful thinking can change that. She wondered if Serena had remembered those words and were weighing them against Kunzite's, but the uncertainty in the girl's eyes told Mina that she had not forgotten. And before Mina could respond, Serena echoed the words from that conversation so long ago, and asked, "Are you happy, Mina? Are you loved?"

Mina bowed her head; she had resolved to tell the truth, and she would not go back on her decision. "I don't know."

"Then it's not enough. Then there is more that you can ask of him."

"He is a Shitennou," Mina replied, her voice quiet, almost wavering. "I am a servant."

"And he is the one who said that such distinctions do not matter." Serena stopped, and let out a sigh. "While you are the one who believes that one is defined by their birth. Please correct me if I am wrong."

"You are far from wrong, Serena."

Then it left only one question, and Mina heard it before Serena had to speak. "Why?"

For years, Mina had asked herself the same thing. Kunzite had treated her with respect, had seen that she received lessons in literature and etiquette that was required from one of his station, but a gap still existed between them, a large chasm that always existed, no matter how thoroughly they tried to fill it.

She knew the answer. But knowing the answer and being able to do something about it were two entirely different matters.

"Because we _are_ defined by who we are, Serena. I first learnt to read and write when I was fourteen, from a tutor my first mistress in the palace employed for me. While I was learning my first set of alphabets, you were probably acquainting yourself with your third or fourth language." The girl did not deny it, and strengthened by the silence, Mina continued. "Kunzite was raised in a privileged environment, by those who ate with the cutlery my mother polished, and sat on the chairs my father made. I may have had my fair share of beauty and education, but I am still nowhere near deserving of someone like him."

Serena shook her head sadly, and Mina was not so sure about her own opinions anymore. "The more you believe that, the more it will come to pass."

"It is not a matter of belief, but an absolute truth, a way of life we must all adhere to. You cannot dress a mutt in fine clothing and pass him off as a pedigree."

"But you are not a dog, and there is more to you than your appearance," Serena said. "Mina, you are loyal and kind, and despite your own belittlement, you are a very intelligent woman. How else do you think you caught the attention of so many who were willing to nurture you? And you were there when Kunzite spoke of his opinions, Mina. I can't claim to know him very well, but he appears to be a very thoughtful man, one who would not dismiss your request for something more, if you have secured his affections."

"That's exactly the problem, Serena—he is thoughtful, dedicated. He puts his duty above all else, Serena. There is no room for me to compete."

"Have you ever tried?" At Mina's silence, Serena continued. "Mina, have you ever told him of your unhappiness, of your insecurities?"

How could she? Kunzite was an important man, and the leader of the Shitennou did not have time to attend to the doubts and demons of his mistress.

"You haven't, have you?" Serena said, all too quietly. "Because you're afraid he won't listen, afraid that he'll dismiss you because you're not important enough. Afraid of troubling him with your petty, insignificant worries, when he has wars to fight and armies to command."

"How can I ever deserve someone like him?" Mina asked, trembling. She did not notice when she had begun to cry, but the tears were now silently falling down her face. "How can a maid ever be worthy of a General?"

Serena took out her handkerchief, wiping away Mina's tears. Her eyes were full of understanding, her voice a soothing caress, like the ripples of a stream that helped a floating leaf on its way. "That's for him to decide, Mina. The only thing you must ask yourself is whether he is deserving of someone like you."

The answer had long been determined, perhaps when the General had first saw her tear-streaked face and saved her from her attackers. Kunzite had been patient with her then, softly stroking her hand in an attempt to sooth, and his patience had never waned. "Yes, he deserves me, and so much more."

"Then give him the more that you think he deserves," Serena said as she drew Mina into an embrace. "Give him the truth. Let him know how you really feel."

Serena released her slowly, and pressed the handkerchief into Mina's hands. Serena walked them to the door, and opened it for Mina. Nodding in silent thanks, Mina dried her tears and took a deep breath, and slowly made her way to Kunzite's rooms.

* * *

From the moment Mina stepped into his room, Kunzite knew she had something to say. The reason behind tears Mina had shed from the previous evening seemed to be more than what she had voiced. The General hurried towards Mina, taking her by the hand. "Mina?" he said, looking at her closely. "Have you been crying?"

She did not say a word, and his concerns increased. He led her to the couch, and they sat down, his hands still wrapped over her own.

"Mina darling, will you tell me what's wrong?"

She took a breath at his words, and he saw the change, the resolution on her face. He felt his own stomach tighten, but did not move; she had something to say, and Kunzite was going to give her all the attention she deserved.

"The night you told me I was to resume my role as a servant and act as a confederate for the Prince, you asked me whether I resented you for not having stood up for me when the Prince gave his command. Do you remember it?"

Kunzite nodded, feeling dread run through his body. He remembered the moment all too well—the momentary shock, the flash of fear, quickly followed by resignation. Mina had smiled, and told him that she could never resent him, that she was only too happy to fulfil her duty.

"I lied. I resented you for having chosen your Prince over me."

He had never imagined them having this conversation, had never prepared himself for her revelation, and he could not help but feel the same resentment towards his Prince, towards himself.

But Mina had not finished. "Because it was always like this. It was always your Prince, your country. And I was always just your mistress, your bit of indulgence whenever you became too tired and worn out from your duties."

"You're more than that to me," he protested, but she silenced him with a look.

"If that's the case, then you never show it. I am always on the bottom of your list of priorities, Kunzite." She swallowed, and Kunzite felt her hand tighten. "I need to know, Kunzite, if that is because I am undeserving of your affection."

He did not need to think. "No, Mina, you are every bit as deserving." The quick response took her by surprise, and Kunzite used the opportunity to speak his own mind. "You have always supported me and given me all your time and devotion that I am always afraid that you had little left for yourself. Never have I met anyone as steadfast as you, Mina, and I don't think I ever will." He reached up to brush away one of her tears. "I think I'm the one who has failed in affirming my affections, Mina. It was unfair of me to have thought spending so much time on matters of the state was acceptable simply because you did not complain."

"I would never ask you to neglect your duties." Oh, the fierceness, the devotion in her voice.

"I know, Mina. Which is why it was so wrong of me to have neglected you in the process, because I knew you would never make such a request." He paused, and then said, "You should not have lied, Mina."

"I thought it was the best thing to do at the time," she said, but Kunzite only shook his head.

"You have made enough sacrifices, Mina, and you should not have agreed if you were so against it."

Her surprise hurt him. He had always known about her concessions, but too absorbed in his own affairs, Kunzite had taken Mina for granted. Her surprise at him having been aware all along was expected, but he didn't think it would hurt so much.

"I would have defended you," Kunzite said. This time another type of surprise was on her face, and it was not so painful to see. "If you had expressed your displeasure, I would have confronted Endymion and asked him to reconsider."

Her expression changed as she was struck with a new thought, and said, "I'm glad I kept my feelings from you, else I wouldn't have met Serena."

The words were a healing balm on their fresh wounds, and not for the first time that day, Kunzite felt respect and admiration for the Lady who had so much empathy, who had brought so many people together. He did not doubt that she was behind Mina's quiet but decisive confession, and because he understood exactly what Mina was trying to say, Kunzite smiled.

"Then I am glad too."

He kissed her then, a soft brush against her lips, a tender touch that sent his heart racing. They still had their differences to smooth over, but he knew what had to be addressed, what had to be fixed, and it would only be a matter of time. Her strength and courage ignited something within him, and Kunzite could only follow with a confession of his own. Some of her earlier words resonated in his mind, and Kunzite pulled away from their kiss slowly, his hand moving to find what he had always kept close with him.

"You are not just my mistress, Mina," he said, lightly running the fingers of his spare hand along her cheek. "You are the bright, beautiful woman with whom I have fallen in love."

The momentarily spell that was woven by his caresses faded as she started to register the reality of his words, and she began to mouth her own protests. "Kunzite, you shouldn't be saying such things to someone like—"

"Marry me."

He did not wait for her to draw another breath. Kunzite stood up from his seat, only to lower himself again, his hand withdrawing the cool metal from his pocket.

"Marry me, Mina," Kunzite said on one knee.

This surprise, this stunned expression that graced her features, clutched at him, imprinting itself in his mind as his thoughts flew to the consequences of his actions. Then she smiled, and there was no more need to think.

* * *

_Please review. :)_


	16. Chapter 15

**As the Eagle Flies**

Hi everyone, hope you've all been going well! I won't bore you with a long-winded message—I'm about to see what is very likely going to be Marat Safin's last match at the Australian Open and I'm ridiculously nervous for him—so I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Chapter 15

As the last breaths of autumn faded into the stillness of winter, the usual bustle within the palace also quietened to a dim. The Prince of Sairelle observed the transformation with a keen eye, ready to provide his input whenever it was deemed necessary. He spent much of his time reviewing the seasonal reports that came in across the land—the situation was grim, but nothing they could not handle. They had survived crueller winters before, with much less resources; it was the strain caused by the war that worried him. A meeting with the Shitennou eased his concerns—their defences will continue to hold, and they would not make any attacks during the cold months to follow.

Questions about the role Serena played in the future of his country continued to plague him, and matters were not made any easier by the distance the girl had placed between them. The steady progress he had made with her slowed and tapered to a standstill, though he was glad no backward steps were taken. They regularly found themselves in each other's presence during mealtimes, but their conversations were polite and restrained. Darien hoped she only needed time to process what he had said to her the other day, and took her behaviour as a sign of her consideration. He was glad, however, to see the friendship that was developing between Serena and the other Ladies. They seemed genuinely concerned about her wellbeing, and took it upon themselves to make sure that she had company throughout the hours of the day. Darien appreciated the effort, and was thinking of a way to thank them when he realised that they were not acting to benefit from the favour of the Prince. That thought surprised and angered him, causing him to almost choke on his wine at the dinner table when the conclusion was reached. After he had drained a glass of water and made his recovery, Darien observed the interaction between the women and saw, for the first time, the Ladies being completely at ease with one another. From then onwards, Darien was content to leave Serena to her own thoughts and company, finding he needed the time to oversee the happenings of his country.

Almost a fortnight had passed when the Shitennou had completed their individual tasks and were free to attend the informal post-dinner meetings that had been put on hold since the beginning of winter. Darien arrived in the spacious room a little after the seventh hour, and was pleased to find Zoisite sitting in his chair at the table, his concentration on the book in his hands.

"Good evening, Zoisite," he said, opening the bottle of wine he had retrieved from his private cellar. "Would you like a drink to go with your reading?"

The General glanced away from his book and gave Darien a quick nod of acknowledgement. "Good evening, Darien. That would be lovely." He started to rise from his seat, but Darien held out a hand to stop him.

"You should indulge in your reading while you still can," Darien said, making his way to the cabinet where the glasses were kept. He retrieved two with his left hand, and took a decanter with his right. When he returned to the table, Zoisite had closed his book and was holding the wine bottle.

"There will be plenty of chances to pursue my interests," the General said, "but being in your company on such a fine evening is a rare occasion." He took the decanter from Darien and poured the wine, the red liquid so dark it was almost black. The rich, oaky aroma instantly filled the air between them. They sat down and waited for the wine to breathe.

"What is your latest area of interest?" Darien asked, trying to make out the title of the book Zoisite had been reading. He raised an eyebrow when he deciphered the foreign script. "Beowulf? I recall studying it when we were still young boys—why the sudden interest now?"

Zoisite looked down at his hands, a gesture Darien knew to be the General's version of blushing. "Lady Amelia has expressed some interest in Anglo-Saxon literature, and she has not received the same education as we have."

Darien tried to keep his voice neutral. "Is that so? Has the text proved to be just as interesting the second time round?"

"It has indeed. There's something different and enlightening about going through a text for the second, third, even fourth time, in the effort of relaying its contents to another person. I don't think I'll ever tire of it."

Darien understood what Zoisite was trying to say, though he had a feeling that Zoisite's enthusiasm had more to do with the student than the content. Knowing the other man's preference for privacy, Darien kept his thoughts to himself.

But the General had other things in mind. As soon as Darien had poured the wine into the glasses and had taken a sip, Zoisite took the initiative of bringing up the topic himself.

"Lady Amelia seems rather eager to learn about a great deal of things," Zoisite said, not quite looking at Darien. His fingers gripped the stem of his glass, and he swirled the wine, momentarily distracted by the small whirlpool he created. "I am starting to wonder whether the enthusiasm is simply part of her personality, or whether there is something more that I have failed to perceive."

"You have been acquainted with the Lady far longer and far more intimately than I have," was Darien's response. "I do recall that my first recollection of her was a few years ago, I don't remember the precise length of time, when she started attending the open lectures that were held in the Inner Theatre. I daresay she didn't make too much of an impression, though I think that she has changed considerably since."

Zoisite took a moment to think, the concentration on his face not unfamiliar to Darien. "You're right—she has been through quite a metamorphosis. I found it somewhat difficult to believe that she was capable of presenting her own opinions so openly to others, but she has done so on several occasions as of late…"

The objective approach they were taking was leading nowhere, and Darien knew that the other Shitennou would be arriving soon. If any progress was to be made here, it had to happen now, in the direct manner that Zoisite disliked and avoided.

"Do you think this transformation might have something to do with you?"

Zoisite's reaction was as expected—his breathing quickened and his fingers tightened around his glass. But they were men trained to confront every battle that came their way, and Darien knew that the General would not flee.

"I think it would be extremely narcissistic and presumptuous of me to take such credit."

Darien's shoulders moved in what seemed like a careless shrug, though it was precise and calculated. "There is no need to feel that way about such a simple matter of cause and effect."

"You don't really suppose that—"

"Zoisite, listen to yourself speak. Can you not hear how foolish you are with your unfounded doubts and the circularity of your thoughts? It is apparent that you have made an enormous impact on Lady Amelia, and the same has occurred vice versa. Don't look so surprised—I know you have come to this very conclusion countless times before, only you chose to disregard it and continue your search for a safer option."

The expression of defeat in Zoisite was unprecedented; it amazed Darien that his friend, for all his intelligence, was so unwilling to grasp the answer to this riddle.

"You need not be so afraid, Zoisite. No one will think less of you if you broach the subject to her."

Whatever response the General had for that was left unsaid, for the sound of the door opening drew their attention to the two men who just entered the room. Darien raised a hand to greet their friends as Zoisite straightened in his seat.

"Good evening, Nephrite, Jadeite. Wine?"

The Generals greeted each other and fell into the rhythmic exchanges that came naturally to them. As Nephrite fetched more glassware, Jadeite took his seat around the table and said, "I think I'll go for something stronger."

Nephrite seemed to have the same idea, and he returned with snifters and a bottle of brandy. "Jaddie my laddie, I'm glad we understand one another."

Darien and Zoisite exchanged a look while the other two took the first sips of their drinks. The Prince took the time to enjoy the aroma of his wine, and said, "Nephrite, has it ever occurred to you that you drink too much?"

The hoarse, boyish laughter resounded through the room. "Perhaps you might consider your words, after you've spent a few days rolling around in the mud with a bunch of soldiers who needed a lesson," Nephrite said in reply.

Darien raised an eyebrow. "The soldiers have been questioning your authority?"

"They've grown restless at the command to wait," the General replied. "Some of the young ones think they're high and mighty without having stepped onto their first battlefield. But they won't ever question me again—I believe I managed to put them in their place."

Darien groaned, remembering all too well the last time Nephrite had used such a phrase. They had been a little more than boys, and were both besotted with the same courtier. The animosity between the two had grown to such heights that Kunzite declared, in frustration, that the two resolve the matter in a duel. Darien had trouble walking for the next two weeks.

Jadeite snickered, having evidently recalled the incident as well. "I wish I could have seen their faces," he said. "Did you trick them into fighting you, or were they foolish enough to make the offer themselves?"

"They were outright stupid," Nephrite said, smiling. "Thought it would be more masculine to make the challenge and show the rest of the group what they were made of." He paused at the smallest trace of concern he saw in Darien. "It was only the young and foolish who thought to challenge their instructions, and I have seen to it that they will never question their commander again."

It was almost unnerving how Nephrite had been able to read him so easily. Darien offered his friend a smile, and they both raised their glass, silently drinking to their friendship. The others joined in, their heads bowed in respect for their Prince. When their glasses had been drained and refilled, the atmosphere that surrounded them was once again one of easy familiarity.

Darien saw this chance to bring up a topic that had plagued him for some time. He spoke quietly, his words well-chosen. "Jadeite, I see that you and Lady Rachael have both been faring well."

Jadeite's reaction was instant—the General stiffened, his expression wary. The men around them also tensed; Darien did not doubt that they remembered the last time the subject had been breached.

"I applaud you on your most excellent skills of observation," Jadeite replied, his tone cold and malicious. "I am comforted by the thought that the fate of this kingdom is in the capable hands of such a perceptive ruler."

"It is the most perceptive people who are often blind to their own faults," Darien said softly, "and for that I apologise."

It was clear that whatever response Jadeite expected to hear from his liege, it was not this. All too aware of the various games their Prince had played on them, Jadeite eyed Darien suspiciously.

"You were correct in reprimanding me for my unacceptable behaviour towards Lady Rachael," Darien continued into the silence. "Although I did not care for her beyond her use in bed, I should not have provoked you about the matter when you hold such affections for her."

Jadeite's surprise was brief—the General's expression quickly turned to one of smugness. "Looks like somebody has fallen into the clutches of a woman who's beyond their control."

"You're one to speak," Dairen retorted

Jadeites lips curved into a smile "But we're talking about two different women."

"And Amen to that!" Darien lifted his glass and the other General followed suit. They drank to their renewed friendship, to their respective women who had influenced them so profoundly in their own different ways. Their glasses were filled for the third time, and Darien felt the first warm tingle starting to loosen his spirit.

"How is Lady Serena?" Nephrite asked when the men had quietened "I have been meaning to call upon her but there is so much to be done—I don't think I can catch her at a decent hour."

Darien nodded, acknowledging the other man's concern. "I think she is considering a fair deal of things at the moment," he said. "I don't want to push her without cause."

"Time is running out." Zoisite's quiet voice pierced through the jovial atmosphere that had only just been established. "Perhaps we can hold out for the winter, but we may not be able to fend Diamond's attack should he send his forces in the spring."

"I know," the Prince said. He sighed, and leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair. "But I cannot risk any suspicion from Serena. So much depends on her right now."

The next question was felt, unsaid, but it reverberated through the room as loudly as the clash of steel: would the woman still agree to assist them if she found out about Darien's true identity?

All thoughts were interrupted as the door opened once more, and the leader of the Shitennou stepped into the light, his hair slightly dishevelled, his breathing quick.

"My horse kicked a shoe," Kunzite explained, "and the blacksmith in Restille has taken ill. Did I miss anything?"

Nephrite pulled a chair for Kunzite, and said, "Darien here got all sappy and begged Jad for forgiveness, and we all took a moment to appreciate my excellent swordsmanship. Oh, and the wine's nearly gone, but we still have plenty of brandy."

Kunzite glanced over at the red liquid in the decanter, then at the glass Darien held between his fingers. "I'll have the Prince's Cabernet Sauvignon."

"A worthy decision," Darien said, at the same time Nephrite muttered, "Traitor." The General kept his exaggerated grimace as he fetched a glass for Kunzite, shaking his head as he poured the wine.

"That just means more for us," Jadeite pointed out.

That bought a smile to Nephrite. "A fair point, my good friend."

Kunzite only shook his head as he inhaled the aroma of the wine. "You drink too much, Nephrite."

Before a friendly argument could take place, Darien straightened in his seat and placed down his drink with an audible clink. "Now that we are all present, I have a matter I would like to discuss."

The men silenced. They knew an order when they heard one, even though this was made in the most informal manner possible.

"Serena seems to be warming to us as individuals," Darien said, though he narrowed his eyes as his gaze passed Jadeite, "but I do not think she will be fully convinced until she has a proper taste of what goes on in this country."

"She has seen and spoken to the rulers," Jadeite interrupted. "What more can we offer her?"

"She has seen us as people," Darien replied, "but not as rulers—save a few moments at the beginning of our acquaintance. And those examples did not leave the best impression on her." Jadeite opened his mouth to protest but stopped at Darien's raised hand. "Rest assured, Lord Jadeite, I am not here to lecture you about your past behaviour. I would have to start with myself if such a thing was undertaken, and we would be here all night. What I would like to discus, gentlemen, pertains to tomorrow's Council."

He gave them a moment to digest his words and took the time to observe their reactions. The Shitennou kept their feelings hidden, but Darien could see the surprise and hesitancy in their eyes.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" The question came from Kunzite, who voiced the uncertainty for his comrades.

"The Councils have always been open to the public," Darien replied. "I don't see why Serena should be an exception."

"The council exists for citizens of Sairelle," Kunzite retorted. "She is not one of us."

"Many foreigners before her have experienced our Councils first-hand," Darien said, his voice rising in volume, "Why should she be an exception?"

"She is no ambassador or dignitary." Kunzite's reply was level; his stance was firm. "Are you really willing to show her all the flaws and weaknesses of our country, to inform her of every specific struggle that we face? She could use those insights to her own advantage—do you really want Diamond to discover all that we have tried to hide?"

The point was not lost on Darien, and he clenched his fist. "I trust that she will keep her observations to herself. She is not one to so lightly disclose that with which she is entrusted."

"You have so much faith in this woman," the leader of the Shitennou said, "but are you sure it isn't misplaced?"

They let the question stand, knowing it could not be answered. Instead, Darien's attention shifted to the other Generals. "Just this once. We will not be in your way; you will hardly notice our presence."

"What if you are recognised?" Zoisite asked, voicing another of their concerns. "There are bound to be many who know the face of their Prince."

"I will see to it that we remain inconspicuous. The cold season is upon us, and none will question the attachment to a heavy coat and hood."

It was Nephrite who spoke next. "You really think this is necessary, don't you? Even if she ends up despising our ways, you are no longer compelled to hide the truth from her, are you?"

"Truth is all a matter of perception," Darien said quietly. "But you are right, Nephrite. I cannot make any further attempt at persuasion until she is given more to think about."

"Then I have no more to say on this matter," Nephrite said. He placed a hand on Kunzite's arm. "I understand your reservations, but be glad that Darien did not choose to appear to the Council unannounced and leave us struggling to improvise."

That brought a smile to Jadeite's lips. "You are in quite a deal of trouble," he said to Darien, "if your affection for this woman has weakened you thus. I'm not quite sure whether I'm comfortable taking orders from such a soft-hearted, sentimental ruler."

"Have you tried taking Lady Rachael from behind out in the open, Lord Jadeite?" the Prince asked mildly. "She is particularly fond of the willow by the lake in the Private Gardens, if memory serves."

Jadeite growled, then bowed his head in submission. "Touché, Your Highness."

"Would you require any arrangements to be made?" The question came from Kunzite—the way the General inclined his head as he spoke told Darien his reluctance was more than met the eye.

"That won't be required," Darien answered, his tone indicating that the discussion was over. "I understand that you gentlemen have quite a bit of paperwork to review for tomorrow's Council, and I don't want to keep you here if the lack of sleep will impede your judgements."

"Your concern would be very touching," Nephrite said with a smile, "if it wasn't used as an excuse with which you plan to take your leave."

Darien had no response to that.

"Is our company not good enough for you?" Nephrite continued, his eyes shining with amusement. "It seems that our Prince has a preference for blondes, and we don't quite match the description. Jad, I think you should grow out your hair."

Jadeite's response was succinct and to the point.

"No need to get so feisty," Nephrite said. "I was just making a suggestion. Hey Kun, you'd better be careful with Mina—"

The leader of the Shitennou removed the bottle of brandy Nephrite was reaching for. "That's quite enough, Nephrite." Kunzite silenced his friend's protests with a look, and then drew a deep breath. "Lady Mina isn't going anywhere."

Darien sat up in realisation. Kunzite's behaviour suddenly made sense—the reservations, the stiff replies, the averting of eyes. Now the General was looking straight at him, his next words directed at the Prince.

"I know I should have asked for your permission beforehand," Kunzite said, his voice soft, "but the deed has already been done. I have asked Mina for her hand in marriage, and she has done me the honour of accepting."

The hiss that came from Zoisite's sharp intake of breath was the only sign of the Generals' concern for their friend. All were now intent on the reaction of their Prince, and the punishment he would deliver for Kunzite's outrageous and selfish behaviour.

But Darien only shook his head, his expression more of disappointment than anger. "You know the laws that govern our country, that govern any marriages any of you decide to enter. You are a Shitennou—you simply _cannot_ marry so below your station. The King will never allow it."

"Then give Mina a title that is worthy of mine," the General said with a trace of bitterness. "I am marrying her, Darien, no matter the consequences."

"Even if it means forfeiting your position as the leader of the Shitennou?"

Kunzite did not pause to consider. "There are many other men who can carry out my duties and take my place, but there is only one woman with whom I wish to share my life."

"You are sure then?" Darien asked, though Kunzite's response was unnecessary. At the General's small but firm nod, Darien sighed into the silence. "I will see what I can do about your situation, Lord Kunzite. Let us hope that my father will be in one of his more generous moods when I tell him the news." He stood up from his seat before any of his friends could respond. "I shall take my leave now. Thank you for your company tonight—it was a great pleasure, as always."

He was halfway across the room when the light footsteps reached him. Darien turned around to face the leader of the Shitennou.

"Darien, I don't know—"

"You needn't thank me yet," the Prince interrupted, placing a hand on his friend's arm. Perhaps at another time, Darien might not have been able to comprehend the devotion in Kunzite's eyes; now, however, he only wished he could feel the same, that he could be free to express himself as fiercely and passionately.

His friend saw this, and nodded. "You have grown into a remarkable man," Kunzite said. "You will make a fine King, Your Highness."

The compliment from the older man, from the one person whom he had respected throughout their childhood, went straight to his heart. Darien took a small step back and inclined his head, bowing to his friend and comrade for the first time he could remember.

And before Kunzite recovered from the shock of his actions, Darien turned on his heel and left the room to its silence.

* * *

Jadeite smiled as Rachael greeted him at the door, her arms sliding up his neck, her lips welcoming him back without the need for words. He instantly responded to her kisses, their bodies easily melding in each other's. When he felt their touches growing more desperate, Jadeite reluctantly eased his kisses and drew back.

Sensing the change in pace, Rachael obliged. She gave him a moment or two, then said, "Did something happen at your meeting?"

He shook his head, pulling her close for another kiss. "Something always happens at our meetings," he whispered into her hair. "But Darien didn't throw one of his fits, if that's what you're asking."

"If he does, then I'm sure Serena would put him right."

The room suddenly felt a lot less stable than he thought. "Be careful of what you say, Rachael. There is a lot more at stake than you think."

He was used to Rachael's defiance, but Jadeite could not help sighing at her next words. "Perhaps you should let me know exactly what's going on so I won't make the mistake of saying something inappropriate."

"Please don't ask such things of me..."

Rachael placed two fingers on his lips. "I know. I'm just concerned about you." Her fingers traced the fine lines on his forehead. "I only wish I knew what worries you so, and that I could somehow ease them."

"Thank you," he said simply. "But not all the news is entirely bad." He wondered for briefly about the repercussion of what he was about to say, but Rachael's intense eyes erased all thoughts. "Kunzite and Mina are engaged."

The meaning took a moment to register, but when it did, Rachael's smile was tinged with sadness. "That's wonderful."

There were so many ways to interpret the downward glance, the slight hitch in her voice. He had a few ideas as to the cause; he wanted to think about none of them.

"I take it you would be in quite a bit of trouble if anyone outside your circle knew about this?"

"No, I don't think that would be looked upon too kindly," Jadeite replied. Her nod of understanding didn't offer any additional comfort. It pained him that when the woman in his arms had finally found people with whom she could share her thoughts and speak her mind, she was prevented from doing so for the good of her country. His mind drifted back to the decisions that have been made by the Prince, and Jadeite wondered, not for the first time, whether they would achieve their goals. He had observed the Chistonian girl from his distance, and though his opinion of her had improved considerably since their first encounter, Jadeite found her far from extraordinary. The Prince's plan might prove to be successful, but even then, Jadeite would not acknowledge the girl as the one who ended the war—helpful as she may be, she was only yet another piece in the elaborate game between the two countries. Jadeite would acknowledge her input, but he would never thank her—after all, he owed Serena nothing.

"Jadeite, I'm going to give you one minute to wrap up your internal monologue before I strip you of your clothing and take you in my mouth."

He was startled to find his thoughts had carried him further than he had intended, but could only smile at Rachael's forthright words. "Now, now," he said, his fingers playing with a lock of her hair, "you know I will be attending the Council tomorrow. Numerous judgements will need to be made, and I need every bit of sleep I can get."

"I never said anything about keeping you up," Rachael whispered, her hands running down his chest, the light movement making him shudder. "In fact, I think time is nigh for me to do a service to this country—I intend to milk every last drop of your energy and leave you utterly exhausted and unable to do any more than sleep soundly until dawn. You have half a minute left."

It was an effort to keep his breathing even, but a lifetime of discipline made it possible for him to speak in a perfectly neutral tone. "Something tells me you're taking advantage of my situation and are only more than happy to have me in a compromising position, now that the opportunity has arisen."

"I suppose you'll never find out then," she said, her voice equally smooth. "And I might I suggest you keep the speculation for another time, preferably for after I take you inside me and ride you until we are both spent."

This time he had to swallow twice before he could answer, but the first semblance to a coherent utterance turned into a growl as her fingers deftly found the sensitive spot beneath his neck, her soft body moving against his hardness, her breath hot on his skin.

"Time's up."

* * *

Although Darien expected to see Mina in Serena's suite of rooms, he found himself speechless as the door was opened and he was presented with the girl who was to wed one of his closest friends. Her face was flush with warmth, her eyes shining of laughter, and Darien instantly felt like an intruder to a different world, one which he had only recently discovered.

A voice sounded within, and Mina ducked her head in a curtsy, opening the door wider for him. "Good evening, Lord Darien."

"Lady Mina." The term of address seemed foreign even now, and Darien wondered if he would be able to fulfil his promise to Kunzite and grant a title to the girl who was once a maid.

He had barely taken a few steps into the room when Serena came into his view. "Darien," she said, curtsying, "how lovely to see you."

It was obvious he had arrived in the most inopportune of times and had interrupted one of their conversations. His gaze instantly flew to Mina as he considered the topic of their discussion, then landed on Serena again, scanning her expression to see whether there were any changes. But to his relief, Serena seemed neither distraught nor suspicious. He shifted his attention back to Mina, and found that she was regarding him with knowing eyes, ones that did not belong to a servant.

She turned to Serena. "It was a great pleasure being in your company tonight. We should really do this another day, and invite the others along."

"Must you leave already?"

Darien fought to keep his jealousy at bay—if only she would express the same resentment at _his_ departures!—and remained quiet as the two women exchanged their goodbyes on his behalf.

"It is getting late," Mina replied, "and I have things I still need to attend to. We will talk more, and do more, some other time."

"Have a good night then," Serena said, her voice tinged with disappointment. Darien could not help but wonder as to what had transpired between the two that would evoke such a reaction from Serena.

"You too," Mina said, giving them a small curtsy. "Good night, Lord Darien."

"Good night," Darien replied in kind. Then, before he could spoke himself, he added, "Please send my regards to Lord Kunzite."

From the slight flicker in her eyes, Darien knew Mina had understood his meaning. She nodded to him ever so slightly, and gave Serena a final smile before leaving the room.

A few moments passed before Serena spoke. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Her words were polite, a touch near formal—and it was unbearable. "Do I need a specific reason to visit my favourite Lady?"

She must have somehow sensed his discomfort, for the woman instantly softened, her gaze no longer penetrating. "Come, let us find a seat." When they had made their way to the drawing room and were seated at the table, Serena asked, "Would you like anything to drink?"

"Just some water, thank you."

She obliged, pouring two glasses for them with an ease that made his heart throb in his chest. When had she gotten so used to serving guests who visited her rooms?

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to pay you a visit lately," Darien said, sipping his water. "How have you been? Is the heating sufficient? Do you require extra blankets?"

"Everything is fine, thank you," she replied. "The Ladies have taken it upon themselves to see to my comforts and well-being, so I have been very well looked after."

Although Darien's mind had been conjuring this moment for quite a while, now that he was finally sitting opposite Serena in her living quarters, he was finding it difficult to grasp exactly what he wanted to say. But she waited for him patiently, and it took a few more moments before Darien gathered his thoughts.

"Please forgive me if my assumptions are incorrect," he started, "but I come under the impression that you might be familiar with the periodic Councils that are held throughout the country of Sairelle."

"I have heard of them mentioned in passing," she said slowly, "but that is the extent of my knowledge."

He had expected as much and was relieved to hear it—speaking of something with which he was familiar was a comforting thought. "Would you like me to provide you with a brief explanation?"

"Yes, please do." Her curiosity was now mixed with interest.

"The idea of holding periodic meetings with the public was first conceived by my forefathers and was established not long after. When Sairelle was a small country with a relatively small population, these meetings were held annually in the capital. As the kingdom of Sairelle gradually began to grow, it soon became evident that meeting once at every turn of the year was nowhere near enough. A more rigid system was put into place: at least one representative of the Crown was to attend monthly Councils for the four regions of the country, where the citizens of Sairelle would ask questions, receive advice and offer their own opinions to the ruling powers. Furthermore, a combined Council was to be held in the capital at the start of each season where most, if not all, of the representatives would deal with some of the more difficult matters of the country, as well as the concerns of the citizens living in the capital."

"Is this the same Council that allowed Lita to manage and rule her own lands?"

"That's correct," Darien replied. "The members who made up that particular Council have changed, but the principles remain the same."

Serena nodded. "And I suppose the four regions of Sairelle are currently being managed by the Four Heavenly Kings?"

"Correct, again. Nephrite is in charge of the West, Zoisite overlooks the South, Jadeite the East, and Kunzite is the Lord of the North."

It did not seem to faze her that the four men with whom she had dined on a regular basis were responsible for managing such matters of the country—perhaps she had already known, and this was simply a clarification.

"Have they recently attended this seasonal Council? Is that why the Shitennou have been so sparse around the palace?"

"They have been preparing for the Council, yes, but the actual meeting will be held tomorrow." He paused, strangely happy to see the eagerness in her eyes. "I was wondering if you would like to attend."

"Would that be permissible?" she asked, though her answer was evident enough.

"The Councils have always been open to the public," Darien said. "A private audience would do very little in fulfilling the main goal of communicating with the general public."

"Will the Prince be attending?"

Having foreseen the question, Darien did not hesitate in his response. "His Highness has settled into his winter palace in the South, and will not be leaving until the end of the season."

Serena's initial surprise quickly changed into one of superiority. "It seems that this private Prince does very little to fulfil his obligations of communicating with his people."

"He will receive and read reports from the Shitennou," Darien said, feeling a need to defend himself from Serena's accusations. The instant narrowing of her eyes told him that he had made spoken unwisely.

"What good will that do," the girl asked, "if he does not directly interact with his people and know them as anything more than hands that plough his fields and grow his wheat?"

Not wanting to make the same mistake again, Darien could do little more than agree. "And that is one of his main weaknesses."

"Along with his ignorance, his selfishness, his arrogance, his mistreatment of women, and his preference for reclusion while his subjects take the reins of a carriage that should be under his direction."

"It seems like there is a lot that you wish to bring to the Prince's attention."

"And I would, if I was given the opportunity to personally address His Royal Highness."

The tone with which she spoke made him uneasy. She regarded him with her steady gaze, almost as if she was challenging him to pass on her message. They had both crept precariously close to a cliff's edge; even the smallest lapse now would send them plummeting. And what he was about to say would be the unknown factor that could take them either way.

"Do you hold more interest for a man who is more myth, than a man with whom you are sharing the air you breathe and the cold you feel?"

The diversion immediately showed its effect. He did not know that he had allowed his jealousy and his bitterness to show, but Serena left him no room for doubts.

"That's not what I meant," she said softly, "that's not it, at all."

Now that he was leading their dance of words again, Darien quickly found what he had to say. "Your mind seems to be constantly on him," he continued. "I know you have many well-founded reasons to reflect on his character, on his behaviour, but I don't know what to make of the fact that you are instantly piqued by any mentioning of him."

"I have every reason to preoccupy myself with such thoughts."

"Reason, perhaps, but not need."

That stopped her.

"You don't need to keep doing this to yourself," Darien said into the silence. "You needn't allow your thoughts to be controlled and bound by the idea of his existence."

"You are wrong." Her voice was so soft he barely heard her words. "Do you really think I enjoy ruminating over the actions of the man who is no more than a murderer? That it is my interest towards a mysterious Prince that had intrigued me thus? If so, then you cannot be more wrong, Lord Darien. My mind is brimming with such thoughts because of what he has done, because of all the slaughter that has occurred in his name. It is not Endymion who plagues me, but my mother, my father, my brother—and the thoughts will not rest until this Prince of yours repays his sins with his very own blood."

She angrily brushed at her cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen. Behind the defiant eyes, Darien saw the flickers of vulnerability. He reached for her and held her hands within his.

"Let it go," he said gently. "Don't keep it in anymore."

He held her as she let loose all the grief and resentment and hatred she had kept to herself for so long. As he stroked her back and murmured words of encouragement, Darien felt the guilt clutch at him more strongly than it ever had. Would he not be worse than the monster she had described, if he continued to deceive her when she was still raw from her losses?

Serena's crying subsided, but he did not release her from his embrace. "You have to move on," he said, shushing her when she began to protest. "Keep the memory of your family close to your heart, but do not allow their presence to weigh you down. Mourn for their loss from the core of your being, but do not allow the grief to overwhelm you. You are strong and beautiful, Serena. Think of this not as the end of an old life, but the beginning of another."

She struggled against him, but it was a half-hearted attempt. "I cannot…"

"You can, and you have. Do you not see that there are many here whom you have affected? You are cared for here, and loved."

Her silence told him she was contemplating his words, but still she did not provide a response of her own. Instead, Serena gathered herself and pulled away from him, her eyes downcast.

"I think we should both retire for the evening," she said, rising to her feet. "It seems that tomorrow will be highly eventful and tiring."

He nodded and followed suit, opening the door for her. When they reached the entrance to her bedroom, Darien paused.

She seemed to understand the reason behind his hesitation more than he did. "You have seen me cry before," she accused. "Unless you have forgotten the first occasion in which—"

"I will never forget." Darien sighed, struggling with his words. "I don't want to hurt you, Serena."

"Then show me how much I am cared for, and loved."

He knew he only had a few heartbeats to consider his options before his hesitation was interpreted as unwillingness. He would not say that he had no doubts about his feelings for her, but even those were overshadowed by a more sinister reality. And yet she was offering something rare and precious, something that could be retracted in the next moment, never to be within his reach again.

The Prince stepped forward and took her hand.

Her lips curled slightly into a small smile, one that reached those cerulean eyes. Eyes that now looked at him with boundless trust.  


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_AN: Please review. :)_


	17. Chapter 16

**As the Eagle Flies**

I hope everyone's been doing well these days. There's been an insane heat wave in Sydney, Australia, so I'm kinda glad to be writing about the cold weather that most of you are probably going through right now. This chapter was one of the most difficult ones I've written, and I think you'll probably see why—I really hope you'll enjoy it!

Quite a few of you have asked about when Darien's identity will be revealed, and I'd just like to say that it'll happen soon. Apart from that, my lips are sealed—you'll have to keep reading and find out for yourself!

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Chapter 16

A knock on the door and a meek, muffled voice woke them before dawn. Darien left Serena with instructions to dress warmly before heading off to his own rooms. He returned half an hour later, just as Mina had finished pinning Serena's hair. Serena almost did not recognise him in his formal attire, the dark blue pants and jacket perfectly tailored. He had brought with him two thick coats, and handed one to her.

"It's very cold outside," he explained.

She thanked him quietly and put it on, instantly appreciative of the fine material that was both soft and warm. In the low light she could make out the silver threads that were woven into the dark purple wool. She buttoned herself up as Darien threw on his own coat, and was amazed to find that the piece of clothing fit her perfectly. She gave him an astonished look, to which Darien responded with a small smile.

"It was my mother's. I'm glad it suits you."

There was no time to reply and indulge in her curiosity. Darien ushered her out of the room, and led her through the corridors, still lit with sconces. As soon as Serena stepped out into the courtyard, she was thankful for the manner of her dress. The ground was covered with snow that seemed several inches deep. She gave a quick nod to the Shitennou, already assembled and dressed in a fashion similar to Darien, and stepped into her carriage. The small space inside was relatively warmer, and she felt slightly guilty for receiving such special treatment when the men would be braving the cold outside. She heard the clanging of hooves against the stone and soon felt the carriage lurching into motion. Serena held her gloved hands together and tried to ignore the draft that came from an unknown part of the carriage.

They rode lightly and swiftly, and the journey was relatively short. By the time they stopped and Serena stepped out of the carriage, the sun had only just begun to make its way into the sky. Her initial reaction to the cold was soon forgotten as Serena took in the sights and the sounds that now surrounded her.

They had stopped in the middle of a street, near a stable where the carriage and horses were being led. The ground beneath her was soft and dirty, streaks of brown mingling with the snow. The street itself was flanked by buildings, countless inns and shops, and homes. As she peered on either end to see where the road ended, Serena only saw a vista; the grey structures only grew more numerous as the street itself thinned to an indeterminate point. People dressed in thick coats chattered around her, carrying baskets on their arms or children across their shoulders, only giving her a brief nod or smile when they walked past her. Serena suddenly found herself inconspicuous, another member of the public, unknown by any, unbothered by any. Serena smiled as she returned the greeting of a woman her own age who was walking, unescorted, into what appeared to be a haberdashery.

When she turned back to Darien, she was surprised to see that he sported a riding cloak, the fine material trailing out behind him, the hood covering his head. If she was not familiar with his stance nor close enough to see his features, she would not have known him for who he was.

"Welcome to Restille, the capital of Sairelle." he asked. His expression turned to one of concern as he studied her. "Is everything all right? You seem somewhat estranged."

She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "This place is just so different from Tristone," she answered. "The people are also very different, and I suppose I was just trying to get used to it."

"You must educate me on these differences later," he said. He gave her a cloak that she had not seen him holding. "You must be very cold. This is Zoisite's—he's the closest to you in build, but I'm afraid it might still be on the large side." Serena looked around to thank the General, and saw no sign of the Shitennou. "They've already gone in."

At her nod, Darien helped her into the cloak, taking great care of her hair as he pulled the hood over her. His touch warmed her, and she suppressed a shiver.

"Wouldn't it be impolite to go to this Council dressed as such?" she asked when he was finished.

"Perhaps it would be considered so, had we decided to attend a few centuries prior. But now only the Shitennou are required to be immaculately dressed, though they are closest to the fireplace. Rest assured—none will begrudge you for wishing to stay warm."

The way he spoke made her think Darien had another reason, one that pertained to their identities, but she remained silent. Although he seemed sure that the Prince would not make an appearance, it seemed adequate that Darien wanted to take as many precautions as possible.

"Shall we head in?" he asked. "It may not be much, but it's not as cold inside the Town Hall, and I'm sure you're eager to hear some of the cases that are being discussed."

Darien offered his arm and led her through the streets, taking various turns before they reached an impressive stone structure that was hard to miss. They climbed the handful of stone steps, nodded to the guards who stood outside the door, and walked into the Hall. The interior was as large as was suggested by the exterior, and was filled with people. A quick count led to an estimation of about a thousand, all wearing their thick winter coats, furs and cloaks, finding warmth in their surrounding company.

The Hall itself was shaped like one of the theatres Serena used to frequent. The stage was on the far end of the Hall, and instead of on a high rise, it was situated below the rest of the room. Before her were rows of large steps, on which the people sat. It was a strange layout to her eyes, the spaciousness and openness of an arena that was oddly situated indoor.

They quietly made their way to an unoccupied area on one of the topmost stairs, the furthest from the stage where the Shitennou sat on four chairs behind a long, diagonally placed table. Zoisite sat closet to the audience, followed by Nephrite, then Kunzite, and lastly, Jadeite. Opposite them stood a young man, whose face could be seen by both his addressees and the occupants of the Hall. He was speaking in the Common Tongue, though it was heavily accented.

"My Lords, I am Stefan Anderson of Restille. I beseech the Council to impart their judgement on a personal matter."

"You have written about your dilemma in advance," Kunzite said. He flipped through the pile of parchment before him and pulled out what appeared to be a letter. "It says in your own hand that you are currently seeking guardianship of your two children, who have been taken from you when your wife left for another man. Is this correct?"

"Yes, Lord Kunzite," Stefan replied, bowing deeply. Serena instantly felt pity for the man, knowing all too well how women were seen as the ultimate nurturers and caretakers of children. No matter how much he loved his children, transferring them into his sole guardianship would be impossible.

"Will your wife be presenting herself today?"

There was a slight pause, followed by another bow. When Stefan spoke again, his voice was full of remorse. "No, my Lord. She has taken to drinking, and made it clear that she had no intention on attending Council."

"As it is within her right," Kunzite said, though his grave tone suggested otherwise. "However, it seems that you are not interested in reclaiming your wife, only your children. Is this correct?"

"Yes, my Lord. My wife and I share nothing but animosity, but I do not believe our children should be punished for our mistakes. I believe that they will bode better with me than with my wife, in her current state."

Kunzite gave the most imperceptible of nods. "You are a well-spoken man with good hand, Stefan Anderson of Restille, but I only have your word on this matter. Is there anyone in our audience today who can be a guarantor for your character?" The last question was directed not at the man who stood before him, but to the people who sat listening to every word.

"I can be Stefan Anderson's guarantor." The voice came from a young man, who had stood up from his seat. All attention shifted from Stefan to this newcomer.

"May I have your name, young man?"

"I am Graham Stoneshoe of Restille," he answered with a bow. "I have known Stefan for over a decade, and I know him to be a fair and a just man who loves his children dearly."

"And what of his wife, Graham Stoneshoe?"

The young man hesitated, but it was not due to nerves. "Stefan's wife is a woman who has seen better days. I do not believe she has been a good mother to Stefan's children."

"And you are willing to guarantee this, such that you will be held responsible should the consequences become worse?"

"I am, Lord Kunzite."

"Then you may sit, Graham Stoneshoe of Restille." Kunzite turned to the man who stood opposite him. "It seems that your wife has little interest in maintaining guardianship over her children." He withdrew another piece of parchment from his pile and picked up his quill. "I will be signing the decree that releases your children from the care of your wife and names you as their new guardian." The outcome shocked Serena, but she had no time to ponder; Kunzite was speaking again. "This will take effect immediately until your children reach the age of majority. You are required to send monthly reports concerning the progress of your children, and your privileges will be revoked if any concrete evidence is provided against you. Do you have any questions?"

"No, my Lord," the man said, bowing so low that his words were muffled. Kunzite signed and stamped the parchment and extended it to Stefan, who stepped forward and took the decree in trembling hands. "Thank you, my Lord," he said, his voice breaking. "I will be forever grateful towards the decision made by this Council." He took a few backward steps, head still lowered, until he reached the edge of the stage and finally turned around to make his way out of the Hall. Serena saw the tears in his eyes, and felt her own eyes dampen.

"And that, my Lady," Darien whispered into her ear, "is how a resolution is reached in Council."

"Is his wife going to relinquish the children?" she whispered back, still sceptical about the outcome. "Is that piece of paper enough for him to properly reclaim his children?"

"Oh yes. It has the signature of a Shitennou, and the Royal Seal. The parchment is now an order, a law, one that cannot be broken by any other authority. She will face dire consequences if she does not comply, and will very probably concede immediately."

She considered this for a moment, unnerved at how easy it was to remove a child from their mother's care, no matter how inapt they were. "Let's hope she'll have enough of her wits around her to take such an action," Serena replied. She paused, then asked, "Didn't Kunzite already have the decision written beforehand? I only saw him sign and stamp it."

"When a citizen writes of their intention to present themselves at a Council, the resolutions are usually preordained. The presentation itself simply allows the Shitennou to assess the situation in person and affirm their decision."

She raised an eyebrow. "But that would mean they'd have to deal with dozens upon dozens of cases for all the monthly Councils."

"There's sometimes hundreds," Darien replied, his voice still low. "And of course, then there are times the Shitennou are faced with completely novel situations. I suspect this might be one."

Serena followed Darien's gaze and saw a young girl, little more than a child, in tattered clothing standing on the space Stefan had previously occupied. The dim buzz of the room instantly subsided as the girl curtsied to the Shitennou.

"My Lords, I am Adrienne Waterhouse of Restille. I beseech the Council to impart their judgement on a personal matter."

Despite her words, the girl's pronunciation was slurred; Serena immediately recognised that she was simply repeating a phrase for the sake of etiquette. Kunzite must have sensed this too, for he glanced at Nephrite, who sat on his right. The other General nodded, and he was the one who spoke next.

"How can the Council be of service, Adrienne Waterhouse of Restille?"

"I'm here 'cos of my da," she said, slipping back into the slang with which she was most comfortable. "He's innkeeper at the Dancing Grove and I used to earn a livin' there. But I tell my da I want out, I want somethin' decent and do some learnin' and he says yes, he'll let me out if I give him ten silver. 'Ten silver and you'll be gone,' he says. I gave 'em to him and packed my bags but he just laughed and says, 'You'd be mistaken if you think you can go so easily.'"

Serena felt herself growing angry from hearing the girl's tale. It was obvious that she was being mistreated by this father of hers, and Serena wondered what the Shitennou would do with the situation. From her distance she could only make out the neutral expression Nephrite had, though she wondered if he was really as calm as he appeared.

The General's usually playful voice was now as sharp as steel. "How old are you, Adrienne Waterhouse?"

"Thirteen, Lord…" She struggled for his name.

"Nephrite," the General offered.

"Lord Nephrite." The girl faltered again with her words. "I beg your forgiveness, my Lord, I've never been to a Council."

"You have done very well, Adrienne Waterhouse," Nephrite said, smiling. He quickly resumed his neutrality again, though his voice was kinder. "Do understand that you have two more years before you reach the age of adulthood, and that you will have to live with a guardian for the time being?"

"Yes, Lord Nephrite." Adrienne was trembling now, and Serena's heart went out to the girl. Serena had known of several similar cases back in Chiston, though very little was done to ease the circumstance of those who suffered. Familial bonds were well respected in her home country, perhaps even taking precedence over matters of the state. Although Serena did not know what Nephrite's judgement would be, she held little hope for the girl. Adrienne seemed to know this too, and her shudders only continued to grow.

"Is there anything else you would like to say about your situation?" Nephrite asked. Serena could not help but wince at the question—what good would it do for the poor girl to divulge, in public, the details of her father's mistreatment? For a moment, it seemed like Adrienne was afraid to give a proper answer. But the General's gaze persisted, and she began to speak again, this time in her native Sairellen language. Her words, which had sounded rough and uncultured in the Common Tongue, now seemed almost musical, rising and falling in unfamiliar steps and leaps. Serena turned towards Darien, only to see that he was leaning towards her.

"She's apologising for not knowing how to properly express herself in the Common Tongue," Darien translated. "She is not purposely trying to be rude, or to disregard the customs associated with the Council."

Nephrite replied in Sairellen and opened both arms, extending them towards the girl.

"He says that her apology is noted and accepted," Darien continued softly, "and is formally inviting her to speak of her experience." The girl curtsied and spoke again, this time with an unmistakable resolution. "She is recounting her childhood, her mother's death when she was young, and how she laboured long hours in her father's inn. She has always liked to sing, and when the patrons started to pay for her voice, her father finally saw her as more than someone to clean the tables and serve the ale. She performed well every evening and never complained throughout the years. Four months ago, a particular customer started showing a great deal of interest in her, tipping very generously each night." Adrienne's voice started to waver again, and Darien paused, his mouth thin. "It soon became clear that he wanted to enjoy more than her voice. He spoke to her father, and they soon came to an agreement—five silver pieces for a night with Adrienne."

Serena's stomach twisted as the girl took a deep breath. Tears were streaming down Adrienne's face, but she made no move of acknowledging them. Instead, she continued to speak, the words like staccato notes to an erratic rhythm.

"She refused the offer," Darien kept translating, his voice strained. "That was the first night her father beat her. The inn lost the favour of that particular patron, and her father blamed her for the loss. It was then that she tried reasoning with her father—she would give him ten pieces of silver if he would allow her to leave. She never received any coin from her father despite her hard work, and had to secretly mend clothing to save up the money. She could only work at night when everyone else was asleep, but she only just managed to acquire ten silver. When she next approached her father, he took the money from her and refused to release her from his household. She had to sneak out of the inn to attend the Council, and thanks the Four Heavenly King for listening to her thus far."

The girl stopped speaking, and gave a wobbly curtsy. Nephrite said something which prompted Adrienne to rise, and then asked a question.

"He asks whether her father might be looking for her at the present moment."

As if on cue, the end of Darien's words was followed by loud footsteps from the entrance of the Hall. Serena turned her head towards the newcomer, and saw a well-dressed man whose wandering gaze stopped searching as it found Adrienne on the stage. He gave a bow that was directed at the Shitennou, and quickly made his way down the steps, ignoring the whispers and stares of the audience around him. When he had reached Adrienne's side, he offered another bow before speaking.

"Please forgive me for interrupting the Council, my Lords." Although he had a much better grasp of the Common Tongue than the girl beside him, Serena heard no sincerity in his voice.

He seemed to have made the same impression on Nephrite. "Whatever business you have with the Council must wait until your turn is due. Please take a seat with your fellow citizens."

"I am afraid that my business is currently being conducted," the man replied. "I am Marcus Waterhouse of Restille, the father of the girl who is presenting herself, and I beseech the Council to hear my words."

"You may speak, Marcus Waterhouse."

"Adrienne is my only daughter, my Lords, and I am afraid that she has not taken her education as well as I would have hoped. I found her missing from our home this morning, and I wish to extract her from these proceedings before they get out of hand."

Serena seethed at the man's façade, and was surprised when Nephrite responded by leaning back in his seat, his face one of boredom. "Then you have arrived in the most opportune time, Marcus Waterhouse. Your daughter has just pledged herself to me, and I have accepted her services. I was about to send for a messenger so that you can sign her release from your household, but it seems that you have saved my boy a morning of running."

Marcus's gasp of shock was heightened by the silence from the rest of the room as they kept the knowledge of the lie to themselves. Serena watched, amidst fascination and disgust, as Nephrite gestured towards Zoisite. The younger General withdrew a piece of parchment and extended it to Marcus, to Serena's surprise—she did not notice Zoisite had been writing.

"If you would please," Nephrite said, as Marcus took the parchment and scanned its contents. "We have plenty of other cases to go through, and I would appreciate your haste in settling this matter."

Serena did not agree with Nephrite's actions and deceit, but the expression on Marcus's face made her strangely triumphant. The man took turns looking at the parchment and his daughter, silently willing her to provide an explanation. But Adrienne kept her gaze fixed on the floor, betraying none of her emotions.

Finally, after a long moment, Marcus shook his head. "She is my only child, and I cannot lose her. She is dearer to me than anything in this world."

Serena suspected that the hint of sincerity stemmed from his fear of losing the source of income that allowed him to live and dress as extravagantly as he did, while his daughter was clad in little more than dirty rags. She knew Nephrite would see this too, and was intrigued when he assumed a contemplative look.

"I understand your dilemma," the General said, "but your lovely Adrienne has taken great pains to visit this Council and see me in person. She has openly confessed her fondness towards me, and I think her affections will be reciprocated. I daresay I wish to hold her to her word and keep her in my personal service."

Given his character, Nephrite's insinuations were ridiculous. But Marcus dared not openly question the powerful man, and could only protest weakly. "But she is still so young, my Lord!"

"Perhaps we should ask the one in question for her opinion. Adrienne?"

The girl should have been shocked by the turn of the events, but she answered without hesitation. "Lord Nephrite is very kind," she said in the Common Tongue. "Don't worry about me, da."

"Alas, the sweet child has spoken," Nephrite declared. His smile faded as he studied Marcus's face. The General suddenly sighed, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "I see that I will not be able to coerce you into signing her release," Nephrite said. "I can see it in your reluctance that you are a kind and caring parent, but I am bound by propriety to ask you nonetheless: Are you a good father?"

"Yes," he replied too quickly.

Nephrite nodded, his movements growing sadder by the minute. "I suppose I must relinquish her to you then, Marcus Waterhouse of Restille. However, you understand that I will need to be duly compensated for my loss."

The slight pause was followed by a deep bow. "As you wish, my Lord Nephrite."

"Fifty silver pieces," Nephrite said, ignoring the other man's gasp. "Seeing I will be robbed of my pleasure tonight and for many weeks to come, I will need to seek them elsewhere."

"I mean no disrespect for your opinions, my Lord, but do you really believe my daughter to be worth such a large sum?"

Nephrite did not falter. "I am not here to negotiate, Marcus Waterhouse."

Serena could see the man mentally calculating the figures and then slowly nod. He reluctantly fished for his purse, emptying it into his hand and counting the pieces, his face growing red.

"I am ten silvers short," he said.

Nephrite sighed, a real sound that betrayed his impatience. "This entire affair is ruining my mood. I shall accept it then, along with your purse."

Marcus stepped forward and placed his purse and the piece of parchment on the table in front of Nephrite, his movements remorseful. "Thank you for your compassion, my Lord." He turned and placed a hand on Adrienne, whose eyes were now wide with terror. "We have dallied here long enough. Let us go home now, Adrienne."

But Nephrite was not finished. "Just a moment, if you would please. I have yet to hear a word from Adrienne about her thoughts on the outcome of this situation." He then addressed Adrienne in the Sairellen language, to the surprise of her father.

"He asked her to be honest in relaying her feelings," Darien translated before Serena could ask. The girl was speaking again, and this time Darien spoke with a strange gleam in his eyes. "She says she was initially afraid when her father turned up, but Nephrite handled it in a way that she would not have considered. Despite the outcome, however, her initial plea to the Council for their assistance in removing her from her father's care remains unchanged."

Upon hearing her words, Marcus turned livid with rage and shook the girl by her shoulders, yelling indiscriminately in Sairellen. When she replied defiantly with a succinct phrase, her father slapped her across the face, sending her sprawling onto the floor.

What happened next was so sudden that Serena could only blink in surprise. One moment Marcus had lifted back his foot to kick his daughter, the next he was on his knees, Jadeite's sword dangerously close to his neck.

"No one is permitted to call a woman a whore while in my presence," Jadeite said softly. "Nor will he be left unscathed if they lay a hand against a woman who responds to the insult by correctly stating that her father is the very one who is willing to sell her body."

Marcus's only response was to whimper, the blood draining from his face.

"Do you have anything you wish to say on your behalf?" Nephrite asked from his seat, his voice hard. "Choose wisely, for they may be your last."

At the General's words, Adrienne cried out and crawled towards her father. "Don't hurt him! He's not a good da, but he's still my da!"

Nephrite took a moment to evaluate the situation, and finally nodded in Jadeite's direction. The other General complied by moving only slightly, so that his blade was no longer threatening to pierce Marcus's skin.

Although he was still being closely watched by all the Generals, Marcus was emboldened by Adrienne's defence. His reply was curt and irreverent. "I had thought that deception was beyond the workings of the Council."

"The Council has only paid you the same courtesy as you have extended," Kunzite said, his deep voice reverberating in the Hall. "It is only fair that your deception was returned in kind."

Nephrite spoke next. "It is thereby the will of the Council to remove Adrienne Waterhouse from the care of Marcus Waterhouse. The forty pieces of silver extricated from Marcus Waterhouse will be bestowed to Adrienne Waterhouse. However, she will require a legal guardian until she reaches adulthood in two years' time. Is anyone in the audience today willing to sponsor her until then?"

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, ceasing when a female voice rang out. "I will act as the child's guardian," the woman said. She rose from her position and made her way towards the stage next to Adrienne. "I am Gabrielle Whittal of Greenville. I have raised two daughters and three sons in my lifetime, and I will gladly care for Adrienne."

"Do you understand the responsibilities that are attached to your decision?" Nephrite asked. "You will be required to send monthly reports concerning her progress, and will need to ensure that she is properly fed and clothed." He turned to Adrienne. "Do you know how to read and write?"

"Only some, my Lord."

"You will also need to see to the girl's education," Nephrite continued. "I expect her to write of her experiences on a monthly basis. Should it be determined that you are mistreating the girl, you will face charges similar to her father."

"I understand, Lord Nephrite," Gabrielle said, her voice slightly unsteady, "and I am willing to make such a commitment."

"Very well," Nephrite said. "Lord Jadeite, Greenville is in your jurisdiction. As much as I enjoy the sight of this imbecile working hard not to accidentally impale himself on your sword, I do need you to look after this paperwork."

Jadeite nodded, then turned to Marcus. "If you dare try to touch her again, I will sever your limb before you get anywhere close." He sheathed his sword and took his seat behind the table again. Kunzite passed him the piece of parchment with the conditions already written, and Jadeite briefly reviewed it before signing the document and sealing it with a stamp.

"Are there any further questions on this matter?" Nephrite asked, once the paperwork and the purse had been given to Gabrielle and Adrienne. When no one spoke, Nephrite gave the girl a closer look, wincing at the swelling on her face. He withdrew something from his pocket, and said, "When you leave the Hall, wrap some fresh snow in this handkerchief and hold it to your cheek. It will help ease the pain."

The girl took the silk kerchief with her dirty hands. "Thank you, Lord Nephrite. I don't know what else to say. You've saved me and I'll never forget it."

Adrienne gave the Shitennou one final curtsy before stepping off the stage and making the climb up the steps to reach the entrance of the Hall, Gabrielle on her heels. The girl paused momentarily when she heard Nephrite address her father, but she quickly resumed walking.

"Marcus Waterhouse, you disgust us all with your presence. You are to leave this Council immediately and reflect on your actions. Think of today not as a punishment, but as a prelude; we will not be so kind should further occasions arise."

The man left the stage without a further word, and the audience watched soundlessly as he made his way outside. As soon as he had left, the buzz of whispering cascaded across the Hall.

"Any thoughts you'd like to share?" Darien asked, his own voice low. "Was this the outcome you expected? What would you have done, had you the opportunity?"

They were difficult questions, and Serena had to think carefully before answering. "I'm glad that the girl was released from the clutches of her father, but I don't think Nephrite should have lied."

"He lied because that worthless excuse of a man also lied. He knew the rights of everyone in the kingdom to present themselves and their cases at a Council, yet he still charged in with his arrogance, believing he could intimidate his daughter into silence and talk his way out of his situation."

"I know Nephrite had a good cause for lying," Serena answered, feeling that the General had indeed laid out an intricate plan that eventually led Marcus to where Nephrite wanted him. "But he could have told the truth and the two of them could have resolved it properly, without any falsehood or deceit."

Even as Serena put forth her argument for morality, she knew that she was going nowhere. It was clear that Marcus would have not co-operated with the Shitennou under any reasonable circumstances, and that Nephrite had known his character the moment the man had stepped into the Hall. And despite her doubts and discomfort, Serena knew that Nephrite, that all the Shitennou, had made the right judgement.

It was then that her appreciation for the Shitennou's actions started to grow. They had shown equal amounts of compassion, authority and anger, at exactly the right times. She had wondered throughout the exchange whether it was wise to place the young girl in the charge of a complete stranger, but it was now that she began to see Adrienne's strength and spirit, something that the Shitennou had recognised immediately. It was not the last they would see of Adrienne, either; in all likelihood, Jadeite would keep to his word and continuously monitor the progress of the girl and see that she grew into a fine young woman. The Shitennou had already changed the lives for several people so far, and from the sudden quietening of the room, it seemed that they were about to impact upon many more.

The Shitennou did not disappoint. One after another, they resolved matters that had eluded the citizens, treating each individual case with attention and respect, never thinking of the problems as beneath them. A Baroness appealed for the right to rule the dowry of land that was given to her adulterous husband, and under the light of Lita's success, was granted that right. Two farmers brought up their dispute about exclusive crops that crossed the boundaries of their fields, taking away each other's business for the fruits and vegetables that were sold at prices to undermine the other's; they were advised to negotiate and agree on a singular price so that the market would remain fair once again. A man who claimed to be the firstborn of a late Viscount challenged his brother for the ability to inherit, despite his illegitimacy, on the grounds of his proper upbringing was given the chance to rule together with his sibling. An academic from the Royal University petitioned to take a common boy under his tutelage, despite the protests of the boy's father, who needed the extra pair of hands in their smithy; the academic was given permission to teach the boy, so long as all expenses were accounted for.

Even after the names of people and places and the details started to elude Serena, the Shitennou remained patient, always carrying out their judgements with wisdom and equality, never showing any signs of fatigue or inattentiveness. Some of the citizens who pledged their cases wrote in advance while others did not, but none of the men discriminated against the illiterate. Often three of the men had to wait while their comrade dealt with a case which pertained to their particular province, but the Shitennou never failed to act together as one, and were always ready to complement one another. They made it clear that their priority was not to themselves—as much as they were leaders, they devoted themselves to serving all the people of Sairelle.

The morning passed by quickly, and the ringing of a bell was soon heard during midday. Darien explained it as a signal for a short lunch break, while warm bread and stew was beginning to be passed around the Hall. Serena was surprised at the informality of the occasion, especially when compared to the Council itself, but Darien simply shrugged and told her it was quicker than having a thousand people leave the Hall, line up for food, then return soon afterwards. The simplicity of his explanation and of the action itself left her speechless and with a lot to digest.

The continuation of the Council after lunch was no different. Although Serena had accepted the skill and diplomacy with which the Shitennou handled the situations, each new case heightened her appreciation for their quick thinking and judgements. Just when she thought she had seen the extents of the Shitennou's power, however, the Hall was presented with a woman who claimed all of their attention.

The woman's name had blended with the others that Serena encountered today, but there was no mistaking the intention and strength in her stance. From the way Zoisite immediately thumbed through the paperwork before him, Serena could tell that this case was accompanied by a written plea.

"Cassandra Riverstone of Restille," Zoisite said, "you have written here that you look for the support of the Council in order to run a charitable establishment, but you have not included any details. We require further information from you."

Cassandra lowered herself in a curtsy. "My Lords, please forgive me for my vague letter. I have never properly learnt how to read or write, and I wanted to give the details of my case in person so that you can make an informed judgement."

"The Council appreciates your letter," Zoisite replied, "but I believe we will benefit more with an elaboration."

"Of course, my Lord." Cassandra took a deep breath before speaking again. "For as long as I am aware, my ancestors have run a bakery in Restille. Our shop is small, our produces reasonably priced, and we have enough patrons to empty the shelves everyday, leaving enough in our pockets for our own bread. We were content with our way of life, and were in want of nothing. But times are changing, and the world grows crueller by the day. One morning, not too long ago, a skinny little boy came into the bakery with four pieces of copper and asked to buy a small roll. I took pity on him, and thinking it would be a one time occasion, I gave him three. He thanked me and left the shop, but he had a look about him that I couldn't ignore. I asked my eldest daughter to step outside the bakery for a minute and see what the boy was up to, and she returned with the most heartbreaking news. The boy was instantly surrounded by four or five others, and he rationed out the three rolls for all of them. They were homeless children, with no one to look after them but each other.

"I kept my eyes open for the boy to return the next day, and sure enough, he came with two copper pieces. He had a resigned look as he looked at the shelves and saw that he could afford nothing. Knowing what he had done the previous day and how difficult it must have been to acquire the small amount of money, I gave him an entire loaf of bread. The look upon his face almost drove me to tears. From that day onwards, I always gave him something, no matter how little money he had managed to scrounge on a particular day, and saw that the boy, in turn, always shared it among the other poor children, whose numbers began to grow. But the exercise comes with a price. The more generous I continued to be, the more difficult it became to feed my own family. Our small earnings dwindled, and it gradually came to the point that we had just enough to pay for the wheat. That's when I realised that if my family continued to feed the poor children, we would need the support of the Council."

"Your actions have been commendable," Zoisite said slowly, "but how do you propose the Council offer their assistance?"

The woman replied without hesitation. "It is impractical for my bakery to continue its business, with its small oven and lack of space. I will require a larger establishment, with the capacities to feed all the homeless of this city."

Her words were met with silence, as if the entire audience within the Hall dared not breathe, in case they missed the reaction of the Shitennou. Serena was one among the thousands to fix her gaze at Zoisite.

"You are not making a light request, Cassandra Riverstone of Restille."

"Nor will the benefits be light, my Lord."

Zoisite nodded, making no move to acknowledge the attention that was on him. "I must discuss this with my peers before any conclusion can be made. Please feel free to talk openly amongst yourselves as we do the same."

He turned towards the other Generals and began to speak in quiet tones as the rest of the Hall erupted into whispers. Serena could not tell from their expressions whether the Shitennou were finding this a difficult decision to make, but the tension in her own body revealed her own reservations. Among her acquaintances in Chiston, a handful of them had been generous and caring to some of the less fortunate and helped take the beggars off the streets by giving them positions as the lowest servants in their household. But that was the extent of their charity—it was a well-accepted fact that any further actions would do little to benefit the giver. Every man, woman and child had their own place in society, and nothing could change their predetermined fates. It made more sense, therefore, to show enough compassion for those far below their station without meddling in their affairs, and although Serena had always wanted to do more than give a silver piece to a passing beggar, she never questioned the clear distinctions. After all, she treated the servants in her household fairly, and that was more than was expected of her as a Chistonian noble.

Yet, this woman, with little more than enough to support her own family, was standing before them all, asking the Shitennou to no longer cast a blind eye to all the starving men and women and children who littered their streets. More than that, she was asking the Council to use resources of the state in order to feed and care for all these unfortunate people who she had chosen to represent.

Serena had almost forgotten Darien's presence, until she felt his heat brushing against her shoulder as he leaned towards her. "You are troubled," he murmured, looking at her with concerned eyes. "Care to share your thoughts?"

"You would never hear of such a case in Chiston," Serena replied, "where one of the common citizens makes such an extravagant request for the homeless. Does this occur here often?"

"There have been several other occasions in the history of Sairelle, but this is perhaps by far the boldest."

She knew she should not have been surprised, but Serena was still taken aback. "Other occasions? What was involved?"

"A couple of decades ago, a shelter was established for the homeless, where an abandoned building of the state was renovated and made inhabitable for about two hundred people. Then, some years ago, someone appealed to establish a clothing bank, where unwanted clothes were given to the poor. Of course, all those who use these services are encouraged to develop skills and find a way to make their own living, which is very important in the grand schemes of things—these efforts are only a temporary fix, and much depends on the individuals themselves."

"And these were all suggested by members of the public to a Council?"

Darien smiled. "Yes, they were. The people here know that their voices will be heard, and that the ruling powers of Sairelle will strive to do everything in their power to assist in the just causes. This case is no exception—the main reason for Zoisite's need to discuss this with the Shitennou is because this project will require ongoing costs for wheat and other raw materials. I suspect they are currently looking for a diplomatic way to extract money from the coffers, money which was collected as tax and should be used for the good of our entire kingdom."

His words proved to be true. Not long after Zoisite raised a hand, instantly bringing silence to the Hall, the General spoke to give his consent. "Cassandra Riverstone, you are hereby granted permission to collaborate with Priscilla Proudmoore of Restille for these efforts."

"Priscilla Proudmoore is employed by the state to provide our lunch during the Councils," Darien explained in a whisper.

"Arrangement will be made to acquire the materials necessary for the baking," Zoisite continued. "You will also be given instructions on the documentation procedure that you must also undertake. Every last grain must be accounted for. You will be compensated for your service with a small amount, but should you choose to take on this responsibility, it must not be for monetary rewards. Is that understood?"

"Knowing I have made a difference will be reward enough, my Lord," the woman said, curtsying.

"You already have made quite a contribution, Cassandra Riverstone of Restille." The General gestured for the woman to arise. "I will speak to you personally in two days' time about the exact details. Lord Kunzite is kind enough to allow me to overstep his authority."

Serena knew that as the leader of the Shitennou, Kunzite was given charge of the capital of Sairelle, but the mild amusement in Zoisite's voice was lost to her. She looked questioningly at Darien, who was smiling.

"Zoisite loves dealing with such paperwork," Darien whispered, "while Kunzite loathes such things."

Zoisite was speaking again, this time addressing his audience. "Be assured, my good citizens, that this decision will not impact your taxes. Do you have any questions?"

Quiet murmuring was his only answer.

"Then I have no more to say of this matter. Thank you, Cassandra Riverstone of Restille, for bringing such an issue to the attention of the Council. You may take your seat."

Cassandra curtsied, and Serena thought she saw tears fall. "Thank you, my Lord, for your consideration. The children will be grateful for your kindness." She stepped off the stage, back into the mass of people who lowered their heads in respect as she passed. The occupants of the Hall took the time to digest the significance of the outcome, and Serena, too, bowed her head.

But the moment was short-lived, and the Council was soon faced with another case, this time to be presented by a young man whose grim features reminded Serena of her own astute father. He made a quick bow before speaking, his voice clear, intonation strong.

"My Lords, I am Geoffrey Blackwood of Restille. I beseech the Council to answer a question about a matter that pertains to us all."

It was Kunzite who took office this time. "How can the Council be of service, Geoffrey Blackwood of Restille?"

"I stand here, on behalf of my fellow citizens of Sairelle, to enquire about the current status of our war against Chiston."

The room suddenly became cold, so very cold. Beside her, Serena felt Darien tense. The people around them acted in a similar fashion as they waited for a response to a question that they, too, had been asking.

"I appreciate your concern, Geoffrey Blackwood of Restille, but I hope you understand that military matters are not to be openly discussed with the public."

"I do, Lord Kunzite," Geoffrey replied. "But I am not asking for specifics; I, with all the other citizens of Sairelle, simply wish to know where their sons and fathers and brothers are. It has been two years since we have all been called to war, and we would like to hear something about its progress."

The crowd murmured their agreement, and Serena saw Kunzite glance to Nephrite on his right, who seemed equally troubled. Finally, the leader of the Shitennou raised a hand. "Very well," he said, now addressing his entire audience. "I am bound by orders not to speak of the war in public, but I am bound by oath to serve Sairelle in every manner possible. And although I cannot tell you all you wish to know, I hope that what little I do divulge will bring some comfort to you and your families. I want to reaffirm the fact that neither His Majesty nor his subjects are deriving any pleasure from this war. We fight to reclaim the land and the people we lost over a decade ago, nothing more. Sairelle has not launched an attack on Chiston after capturing their fortress city of Tristone just east of our borders."

"Why not?" Geoffrey's question startled everyone in the Hall. "Have we not the sufficient forces to win against Chiston? Why must we be forced to wait needlessly?"

"Because we do not wish to throw away lives needlessly," Kunzite replied evenly. "Perhaps the peace we are seeking can be achieved without spilling any more blood."

"With all due respect, Lord Kunzite, I am in doubt about the mentality that proved to be our undoing in our last war with Chiston."

Hearing the stranger making such rightful accusations about her home country was almost too much for Serena. She looked away, remembering all too well the conversation she had with Darien on a morning not so long ago.

"We are taking all the precautions to ensure that such a mistake will not be repeated," Kunzite said, "but I also will not be sending my soldiers to march to Chiston in such abysmal conditions. I will, however, notify my liege of your concerns. Do you have any further questions, Geoffrey Blackwood of Restille?"

The man bowed. "I thank you for your time, Lord Kunzite, and I sincerely hope, for all our sakes, that our efforts will not be in vain."

As he disappeared back into the audience, Serena let out the breath she did not know she had been holding. She could not suppress a shiver, and was grateful when Darien covered her gloved hand with his.

"These questions are asked from time to time," he murmured, his spare hand brushing her cheek. "I'm sorry you had to be here for this."

She tried to smile for his benefit, but they both knew it was forced. "Please don't be sorry on my behalf. Perhaps a part of me needed to hear what the gentleman had to say." She lightened, and added, "I discovered many incredible things today about your country, about your friends, and I would not trade them for anything."

"They are your friends, too," he said.

Serena thought of how the Four Heavenly Kings sitting far below them were the same carefree men who laughed and argued and flew kites, and felt a strange sense of pride well within her. "And I'm glad of it."

Her heart warmed as Darien squeezed her hand in response, and the Shitennou eased back into their rhythm as they were presented with their next case. The next few hours passed so quickly that she lost all sense of time. Serena was sure now, after such displays of diplomacy, that the Shitennou could handle any and every situation that posed a problem for the people. Only after the last man had walked off the stage did Kunzite announce the Council's adjournment for the season. The declaration served as a disenchantment spell—Serena suddenly felt the ache for having sat unmoving so long, and the hunger that began to gnaw at her stomach. The rest of the populace seemed to have the same reaction, and they gradually rose to their feet and started making their way to the entrance of the Hall, the massive line of people blocking her sight of what little light remained outside.

Despite her weariness, Serena stayed seated for a few more minutes, watching the men and women as they passed her. Across the Hall she saw the Shitennou remain in their chairs behind the table, rearranging the paperwork before them.

She abruptly turned to Darien, who had been watching her intently. "When will they be leaving?" she asked.

"After all the others have left," he replied. He continued to study her with an expression that she could not define, and for the first time that day, Serena was tempted to remove the hood that hid half his features. But the moment passed before she could act upon her impulse, and his next words, softly spoken, sent a sensation through her that she could not understand.

"Let's go home, Serena."

* * *

_AN: Please review! :)_


	18. Chapter 17

**As the Eagle Flies**

Hi everyone, hope you've all been doing well! Quite a few people didn't seem to like the last chapter because it wasn't so eventful, but I hope that as you read on, you'll come to appreciate the significance of what did happen at the Council. Although it slowed down the pace of the story, I liked how it gave some room for the readers (and Serena) to observe and have some room to breathe. Of course, I do see all the points that you have made, and I will take them into consideration should I ever decide to revise this story.

And without any further delay, here's the next chapter, where things do start to pick up again. (I think of this, and the last, as the calm before the storm; you'll see why.) I hope you'll enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 17

The Shitennou entered the private dining hall soon after the first course was served, their hair and clothing tousled. They quickly exchanged greetings with Darien and the Ladies, and took their seats around the table.

When the newcomers were settled and their glasses filled, Darien lifted his drink to make a toast. "I'm honoured to be dining with such fine company this evening," he said. "To the Four Heavenly Kings, who are responsible for yet another well-handled Council!"

Kunzite raised his glass in reply. "To the members and the audience of the Council!" Kunzite's declaration brought a smile to all their faces—he had added to the toast, and it was custom, then, to continue around the table until the last person had spoken.

"To the children whose stomachs will no longer be empty," Zoisite said.

"To the thirty days before the next Council!" roared Jadeite.

"To our extraordinary Ladies," Nephrite said, winking at Serena.

It was now the women's turn, and Lita showed no reservations as she said, "To our Lords, who have proven themselves to be competent."

"To understanding, and forgiveness," Rachael said, looking across the table to her partner.

Amelia's gaze drifted across the table before it landed on Serena. "To the importance of learning through living."

"To the promise of tomorrow," added Mina.

"To Sairelle," Serena said softly, her eyes clear, "and its people."

Then Darien spoke, his voice silky, seductive, and somehow sincere. "And to Chiston, and its people."

The toast had completed its circle, and in silence, they drank.

* * *

It had reached the point of the evening where only traces of dessert remained and several bottles of wine and brandy lay empty. The jovial atmosphere was contagious, and conversations were brimming with the warmth they all felt. Stories were shared, friendly arguments were held, the sounds of their voices both distinct and complementing. The night grew still, but it did not stop the chatter and the laughter.

"Zoisite's a good shot," Nephrite was saying, "but he just can't handle his eagles well enough. By the time he's done negotiating with his beast, the game he's hunting would've already found shelter."

"At least I have the eye for my prey," Zoisite retorted. "Pure muscle and strength gets you no where when your target is hundreds of feet away and you can barely aim properly."

Nephrite had the decency to blush, but quickly recovered. "I'll let that one pass, Zoi, seeing you have little else to recommend yourself."

"You boys are boring the Ladies with your woeful recollections," Darien chimed in. "Allow me to tell them a truly extraordinary tale of a particular hunting trip."

The men groaned in response, but that did not stop Darien. "A couple of years ago," he continued, "the Shitennou and I went on one of our annual hunting sprees. Game was getting scarce, and there had to be a way of bringing meat to the table."

"Stop being all noble—it was all a competition to you." The muttering came from Jadeite.

"Don't be a sore loser, Jad," Darien shot back. "Anyway, the five of us rode into the nearby forest and agreed to reconvene at our meeting place right before sundown. So we scattered off into our different directions, all intent on returning with the best results. Nephrite, despite his continued eagerness to please, was completely empty-handed. One would have thought that he didn't try, except his quiver was almost empty, too."

"I chased the deer halfway across the forest, but I just couldn't get the damn thing," Nephrite said.

Rachael leaned towards Lita. "I hope his aim is better in the privacy of your bedroom."

"Oh yes, he's very decent behind closed doors," Lita replied with a smile. "Perhaps he's just nervous performing to such a large audience."

"Well there goes that idea," Rachael said, sighing.

Nephrite groaned. "Will someone please separate those two?"

"So Nephrite returned with nothing," Amelia spoke up. "What about everyone else?"

"I'm glad there's at least one Lady here who's interested in a man with skills beyond the bedroom," Darien said. "Your Zoisite managed to capture one deer, but both man and beast were in a terrible mess."

For a moment it seemed like Amelia would retort to being so inappropriately associated with Zoisite, but she simply swallowed and asked, "What kind of mess?"

"It turned out that Zoisite couldn't manage to get his eagle to co-operate," Darien said, "so he had to chase the half-wounded thing himself and finally drive his sword into the deer to slay it. It's not the traditional way with hunting, but at least he managed something."

"Unlike Jadeite," Rachael said, a wicked gleam in her eyes, "who was about as successful as Nephrite. "Would you like to tell us all why that was, my dear?" The General's mixture of anger and embarrassment several snickers and laughs. Rachael showed him no pity, and only continued. "Lord Jadeite here was too preoccupied with the thought of the then recent acquisition of a certain Lady for his mistress, that he found himself with a slight problem which rendered him completely useless on a horse."

Serena could not decide whether to laugh or cry, and finally opted for a combination of the two. "Is that so, Lord Jadeite? Was the mighty warrior defeated by such trivial a thing?"

The small jest seemed to sober him slightly, and Jadeite turned angrily towards Rachael. "Must you reveal such private particulars to her?"

There was hardly a moment's silence before Rachael's response. "Stop being such a prick," she reprimanded. "Serena is acquainted with the most intimate details of our relationship, well beyond what you consider to be 'private'." The revelation took Jadeite by surprise, but Rachael did not allow her lover's complaints to affect the atmosphere. "And what of Lord Kunzite? How successful were his endeavours?"

Darien's gaze lingered on Rachael, understanding what she was doing. "Kunzite fared a lot better than the others, but only managed to return with two. A fair effort."

"Don't patronise me, Darien," the leader of the Shitennou replied. "Your self-proclaimed brilliant manoeuvre was simply born of inherent laziness."

"I hope I'm not going to be disappointed with the outcome of this story," Serena said. "How many did you bring back, Darien?"

He smiled, pleased with himself. "Nine."

"The sneaky little bastard," Nephrite said under his breath.

Serena knew how difficult it could be to hunt game, and was surprised with the figure. "How did you manage that, when the others struggled as such?"

"The lovely Shitennou here instantly rode off into their four separate directions," Darien explained, his smile still wide, "and were so preoccupied with the idea of hunting that they didn't notice I had stayed behind. I found a nice sturdy tree, tied my trusty mount, sent my eagle away, and took a little nap. The deer that had initially fled from our arrival eventually returned—they had little to fear from an unridden horse and a dozing man. When I woke up, the deer were well within my range. I called my eagle back and gave her the command to attack, while I strung my bow and took a few shots. The first five fell as soon as the arrows struck, and my eagle followed the other four and took out their eyes. The entire exercise took less than half an hour, and while I looked fresh as ever, the Shitennou were starting to return, all exhausted and covered in grit. It was all a very lovely experience."

"What a cheat," Jadeite accused. "A large part of hunting is the part where you chase your prey—what kind of huntsman lies around, waiting for his pet eagle to do his job for him? Besides, you all seem to forget that I once returned from a trip—a proper one, mind you—with three deer."

Zoisite shrugged, appearing nonchalant as he said, "I've done three too, with only four arrows. I recall your little expedition used up twice as many."

"Four, my good friends," Kunzite said. "All of them quickly and cleanly finished off by my feathered companion in the traditional way. You shoot and wound, your eagle flies and finds; it's the only acceptable way of hunting."

"Listen to the men," Lita interrupted. "They speak of their sport as if their lives depended on it. I'm sure that we women can do twice as well with half the talk."

"Your confidence is derived from the fact that your feet are firmly placed on the ground—riding with a fully strung longbow will surely unsaddle you."

"Careful there, Lord Nephrite," Rachael said, "or I'll pierce an arrow through your family jewels five hundred feet away, when you're least expecting it." She turned to Lita and added, "You'd best get your use out of him before then."

Nephrite's shock was replaced with laughter. "I'm sure you enjoy playing with bows every now and then, Lady Rachael but—" He stopped when Jadeite grasped his shoulder firmly and shook his head.

"I've seen her do it," Jadeite warned.

"Five hundred feet? That's difficult even for Kunzite!"

"I'm sure I can arrange a demonstration for you, Lord Nephrite," Rachael said sweetly. "I'll even allow you to be the target so you can be comforted in the utmost accuracy of your judgement."

"The offer is tempting, but perhaps you should practise with Jadeite first. After all, he has been your partner in several other ways."

"I never go for the same target twice," replied Rachael. "There never is a need."

Nephrite's eyes widened and he practically jumped from his seat. "You've taken a shot at Jadeite's balls before? Jad? Do you still have them?!"

"Do I look like I'm bleeding on the floor, clutching at my nether region?" Jadeite asked, frustrated. "She missed them, by this much." He brought together his thumb and forefinger until they were a quarter of an inch apart.

"And you know I missed on purpose," Rachael added.

"Thanks to your ever considerate and sparing soul."

Nephrite shook his head, still in disbelief. "Must've been some fight."

"But the part where we made up… That was worth the frightful possibility of permanently losing my ability to perform."

Darien waved a hand at the comment, casually dismissing Jadeite's insinuations. "I'll admit that Lady Rachael has a talent with bow and arrow," he said, "but what happens in the practise fields is very different to the real world. Your enthusiasm is endearing, but certain activities should be left in the hands of men."

Lita sighed in exasperation, placing her glass down on the table. "And there they go again, thinking us women incapable of anything other than serving as decorative ornaments dangling off their perfectly sculpted arms. Ladies, what do you think about beating these arrogant males at their own game?"

"An interesting proposition," Darien replied, "but you won't be stepping into the Royal Forest anytime soon. There's hardly enough game there at this time of the year, and I don't need you to scare them off with your laces and perfume."

"I have lands within my estate with plenty of game," Lita shot back. "They would serve our purposes well enough." She turned to the other women. "How about it? We could spend a few days away and enjoy each other's company, have a couple of hearty meals, and show our varied skills to the men."

"I'm not so sure," Amelia said quietly. "I can ride well enough, but I've never touched a bow before."

Serena touched the girl lightly on the arm. "I'd love to just have you there," she said. "The two of us can trail behind while the Competitive Duo scale the forests."

"Make that three," Mina added, "though you'll have to excuse me for lagging behind."

Lita clapped her hands together. "Excellent job, Serena, for convincing the most timid! And you, Rachael?"

The gleam in Rachael's eyes was unmistakable. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning," Lita said, smiling. "After breakfast. We won't require chaperons or carriages or any of the like, just four healthy mounts to take us to my estate."

Darien was unimpressed with the arrangements. "The road has many dangers."

"We can look after ourselves," was Lita's reply. "Besides, it's getting awfully stuffy inside the palace, don't you agree? Some fresh air will do us all some good."

"Hey Lita," Nephrite spoke up suddenly. "I think I left some documents in your study last time. Mind if I come along? I'll leave straight after I retrieve them, of course. Wouldn't dream of interfering with your bloodthirsty hunt."

Lita narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but she saw the seriousness in Nephrite's demeanours, so different to his casual words. The woman sighed in defeat. "All right then. But I won't be tolerating such lapses of memory in the future."

Nephrite inclined his head. "Understood, my Lady."

The quick exchange between the two was soon forgotten, when Jadeite leaned over to Darien and whispered, "You hear that? The Countess thinks we're _stuffy_. I think that's something that needs rectifying."

"Absolutely," Darien replied. He quickly scanned the room, his gaze falling on a specific part of the dining room. "Shall we?"

The men moved as one; Darien leapt to his feet and found his way to the corner where the musical instruments were kept, as Jadeite made his way towards Lita.

"My Lady," the General said, extending a hand, "would you do me the pleasure of joining me in the next dance?"

"Dance? Of what do you speak—" Lita's momentarily surprise was drowned out by the chords that suddenly filled the room. They all glanced to see Darien playing the introduction of a _gigue_ on the piano.

Jadeite smiled, offering his invitation again. "It looks like we all need something to lighten up the atmosphere, keep the stuffiness out."

Though Lita was shaking her head in disbelief, her eyes twinkled as Darien made an exaggerated act of repeating the introductory notes while he waited for his dancers to ready themselves. She got to her feet, and the other Shitennou quickly followed, approaching the women with the same cheeky courtesy.

"Lady Rachael," Nephrite was saying, "I am hoping that you could honour me with a dance, and perhaps forget all that talk about using me as a human target."

"That depends on how proficient a partner you prove to be," Rachael replied, gathering her skirts and rising to her feet.

Amelia seemed slightly nervous when Kunzite approached her, but her acceptance was in the form of a gracious curtsy. And before Zoisite could make a decision between the two blonde women, Serena excused herself politely and made her way to the area where Darien was playing.

When the four couples were finally standing and facing each other in the large empty area they had turned into a makeshift ballroom, Darien began playing the _gigue_ in earnest, the notes delicately making their way through his fingertips and into the twists and turns of the moving bodies. They did not falter when the music was joined by the very different sound of Serena on the violin, and instead allowed themselves to savour the feel of the familiar movements. The men and women weaved their way through the room, rising and falling in perfect timing. Their hearts mourned when the music slowed and dipped into the cadences that signified the end of the dance, but they were all smiles when the last chord was played, their hands coming together in delight.

"That was wonderful," Rachael exclaimed, her hand resting lightly on Nephrite's arm. "Lord Nephrite, I think you shall be released from your duties of accompanying me to archery practice."

"It was entirely my pleasure," Nephrite replied.

The slight pause in the music was short-lived; not soon after the General had spoken, Darien eased a soft melody from the piano, the accompanying chords light and wistful. The atmosphere instantly mellowed, and the Shitennou gave their previous dancing partners one last bow before seeking the women with whom they shared more than just quick steps in a ballroom. Kunzite moved first, intent on his reunion with Mina. Jadeite and Nephrite followed suit, exchanging wry grins as they returned to their lovers. Zoisite's hesitancy upon approaching Amelia was given no time to grow—the notes that marked the end of the piano's introduction drove him forward. He vaguely recalled his recent discussion with Darien about Amelia, and suddenly felt very clumsy, knowing he had never danced with the quiet woman before. They had barely touched hands when the music swept them into the intimate _sarabande_. It was a lover's dance, one that transported the couples beyond the dimly lit dining room into a place that was not defined by its position but by its people. His heart beating erratically, a far cry from the steady, seductive rhythms of the piano and violin, Zoisite gently spun Amelia away from the mundane. They kept their gazes on each other, too emboldened to look away; in Amelia's eyes he saw the entrancement, the wisp of desire. Their breaths mingled in the small space between them, their body heat reaching out but never quite touching. The song of courtship had only just begun when the tempo slowed and the notes started to fold away.

It was over far too soon for Zoisite's liking, yet he had no choice but to step away courteously after the last chord. He bowed, murmuring his thanks for Amelia's dance while she responded in kind. Around him, his friends embraced their lovers openly, whispering sweet compliments in their ears. Even Serena and his Prince were exchanging quiet words at the piano, their hands brushing surreptitiously, their world their own. His friends had rightfully expressed their feelings for one another; he had indulged in a stolen moment that was born from courtesy.

Before Zoisite could be taken by his guilt, Darien rose from his seat at the piano, his hand entwined with Serena's. "Ladies, I hope you are re-evaluating your previous opinions about the stuffiness of our company," he said.

Lita curtsied in response, her smile wild. "It's been lovely to hear you play, Darien. And you too, Serena, pouring such passion into the violin. Your talents never cease to amaze me!"

"It's just a bit of fiddling around," Serena replied, eyes glittering, sparking chuckles around the room.

"As talented as I'm sure you all are," Kunzite said once the laughter had died down, "I believe you Ladies are going to have quite an adventurous day in the morrow."

Rachael glided towards the leader of the Shitennou, a wicked smile on her lips. "Are you implying we don't possess the stamina to keep our pace?"

"I would not dream of such a thing!" Kunzite replied, throwing his hands up in a theatrical display of shock. Then he smiled too, his teeth gleaming. "But seeing I will be deprived of Lady Mina's company for several days and nights, I intend to warm my bed quite thoroughly tonight."

The admission was accompanied by whistles from some of the men, while the women rolled their eyes and sighed in exasperation. Kunzite simply shook his head and bade his friends goodnight before taking Mina's hand and leaving the room. The departing was not limited to the leader of the Shitennou; one by one, the couples voiced their own gratitude for each other's company before they, too, stepped out of sight into the privacy of their own bedrooms, until only four people remained.

If there was any tension in the atmosphere, it lasted for no longer than a breath. Zoisite graciously bowed to Serena and complimented her on her musicality again before turning to Amelia.

"My Lady, may I have the honour of accompanying you to your rooms this evening?"

Amelia had heard the request long before the General had uttered them, and could only curtsy in reply. "I would like that very much, Lord Zoisite." She ducked her head when she saw Serena's grin, and added, "Good night, Serena, Lord Darien."

They left the room quietly, leaving only Serena and Darien standing near the dying embers. The two stood in silence for a moment, revelling in the quiet cracking of the fire, before Serena lifted a hand to cover a yawn.

"Shall we?" Darien asked, his voice no more than a murmur. Her only response was a nod; hand in hand, they left the dining room with nothing more than an echo of footsteps.

* * *

Amelia tried not to think of their proximity as she walked side by side with Zoisite along the empty halls. Protocol had ensured she attended her fair share of social dances, but Amelia had always preferred to keep to herself during those occasions. She knew the steps well enough, but had always thought of dancing as a tedious exercise rather than something to be enjoyed; never before had she known that moving in a certain pattern to certain pieces of music could make her so breathless. The recent memory of their joined hands caused Amelia to blush, and she was grateful that there was not enough light for Zoisite to discern her reaction. She had thought too soon—they had reached the entrance to her suite of rooms, and the General was now looking at her with an intensity that she had never encountered.

Not knowing how else to act, Amelia fumbled into a curtsy, her voice wavering as she mumbled, "Thank you, Lord Zoisite—"

She gasped when the General's hands covered hers and she found herself touching him again, skin to skin. Her eyes searched his for an explanation, but she saw none of the discipline and reasoning that had always been a source of inspiration for her; instead, there was only a single-minded intent that suddenly made her afraid. Sensing her discomfort, Zoisite's loosened his hold, though he did not withdraw his hands. Confusion and uncertainty, neither of which she had seen him possess, crossed his features, and his lips moved ever-so-slightly, as if he was muttering to himself. Then, faster than she would believe possible, Amelia saw that the man had come to some kind of conclusion, his eyes bold.

"I enjoyed your company tonight," he said softly, tenderly. He paused, but she knew he had not finished and was still grasping for words. "I have always enjoyed your company, whether it be over a table of books or medicinal herbs. I stand here with the hope that you have found the same enjoyment in the time we have shared together."

The possibilities of what he was presenting her suddenly flashed before her, and Amelia felt her heart increasing its tempo. But despite how much there was to gain, Amelia knew that their friendship might be lost if she accepted his offer, only for Zoisite to find that he had made a mistake. It was something she was not willing to risk; the shame and embarrassment she could potentially feel overwhelmed her until all thoughts of joy left her.

She lifted her head defiantly, and replied, "It is inappropriate for the two of us to be standing here at such an hour, unchaperoned."

He was visibly shocked, but Amelia did not allow for his pain to slip past her resolve. She gave them both a few moments to recover before slowly removing her hands from his. To her surprise, the General refused to let go, and only looked back at her with knowing eyes, his head shaking, as if in disbelief.

"What are you afraid of, Amelia?"

The direct question coupled with the informal address sent a chill down Amelia's spine. He must have noticed her shiver, for Amelia suddenly found herself completely surrounded by his warmth, his strong arms wrapped around her in a protective way that spoke all too loudly of his affection. She initially stiffened at the contact, but he did not release her and instead ran his hands along her arms. The feel of his rough hands against her skin was strangely soothing, and Amelia soon found herself softening, as if his embrace unlocked the deep vault of emotions she had kept hidden for as long as she could remember. When he repeated his question again, Amelia could only answer, her own voice barely a whisper.

"I am not beautiful, nor charming. I will never be able to keep others entertained and feel at ease, and sometimes I prefer to remain in the company of books than with other people. I am not practised in the particular art that will be required of me. I have very little to recommend myself, least of all to one of the Four Heavenly Kings."

"And yet you have still managed to captivate me," Zoisite replied. "Not with the flaunting of figures or the seduction of a smile, but with your intelligence, your loyalty, your confidence in sharing opinions that differ greatly from others. And you are beautiful and charming, in every way."

"You are trying to woo me with dishonesty and flattery," she said, though she was uncertain.

He smiled in response. "I am trying to woo you, yes, but there is no dishonesty in my words." His hands slowed in its motion, and his tone became more serious. "You need not be afraid, Amelia. I would not have broached such a subject with you had I not been certain about my own feelings…and of yours."

He silently challenged her to refute the truth of his statement, but she made no sound. When he searched her eyes, Zoisite found that he had already known the answer. He cupped her cheek with one hand, and leaned towards her, so close that she could smell the remnants of the sweet wine in his breath.

"I'm giving your warning now, Amelia," he all but murmured, "so that after I kiss you, you won't accuse me of having insufficiently prepared you."

Right after the last word left him, Zoisite closed their distance, his lips gently melding against hers. When he pulled back, they were both breathing heavily, the heat escaping from their mouths and dissipating into the night air. And though Amelia found she yearned for more of the new sensation, it was not so easy to voice her thoughts. But she did not have to wonder for long—Zoisite's smile lit up the corners of her heart, and her lips curled into a shy smile of her own.

"I'm going to kiss you again," he whispered in his light tenor, "then again, and again. You may not have the opportunity to say anything for a long time, so perhaps you should speak now, before you become pleasantly preoccupied with other matters."

She knew it would not be the last chance to express her thoughts, but her uncertainties resurfaced and continued to weigh her down. "I hope you're prepared for severe disappointment."

He studied her carefully, then said, "It's unlike you to speak of such nonsense. The Amelia I know and love is always ready to learn new things."

And before she could protest, Zoisite had found her lips again, enveloping her in his endless warmth.

* * *

Serena was relieved when she stepped into her rooms, where a fire was burning merrily. Darien was not far behind; he quickly closed the door behind him to prevent any drafts that might have followed them into the room. Her high spirits had not diminished since dinner, and he could not keep himself from smiling. This change in mood, though almost unexpected, was contagious. As Serena glided towards the bedroom, Darien called out her name, stopping her. He was momentarily speechless at her expression, her lips slightly parted, cheeks glowing, eyes alight. The steps he took to close their distance were slow, not because of uncertainty, but from a restrained desperation to revel in the sight of her. When Darien finally reached her, Serena's breathing had quickened, her chest heaving unevenly. Her eyes closed when he cupped her cheek with a palm, his lips drawn into a smile when he placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Dance with me, Serena." It was not quite a request nor a command, but a prelude, a promise. She did not need to respond—her willing body leaning into him was answer enough. Darien slid his hands to her waist, the heat of his skin seeping through the thick layers of her clothing.

Neither had moved in this way before, their foreheads touching, their feet taking the steps that had not yet been written; somewhere unknown to them both, two distinct voices wove a song that flowed straight to their hearts. There was no particular meaning or pattern to their movement, yet their gentle swaying meant so much more than they could comprehend. Tucked in the small corner of the room, untouched by the winter night, Serena and Darien gave into the simple pleasure of their subdued senses.

Time trickled by, unnoticed, until Serena broke their rhythm, only to introduce a new beat. She began with his jaw, her light, feathery kisses darting away as soon as an impression had been made. Her lips found their way to his ear, where her every breath was matched with his inhaling, exhaling. The strange yet comforting sensation of her joining him at his core was too much and not enough for him, and Darien tilted his head so that her next breath started and ended within him. He kissed her until they were both dizzy, directionless, knowing that the only way was with one another. They stumbled blindly, intoxicated, their kisses easing and intensifying as they removed their shoes and shirts and skirts. Serena let out a sound when her insistence pushed him over and they landed on the bed, wearing nothing but desire. When he felt her tongue he parted his mouth immediately for her to deepen their kiss; a few heartbeats later, Darien was overwhelmed with the sensation of her fingers massaging his scalp, the smooth skin of her body sliding on top of him, her mouth taking its time to thoroughly delve into the secrets of his own. The simmering of passions suddenly took a sharp turn, and Darien vaguely remembered that he had more to say, that he wanted to exchange a few more words before disregarding all thoughts. Grasping at the last threads of control he had left, Darien placed his hands on her waist, lifting her off him.

But the woman had other ideas. Instead of submitting to his will, Serena only settled herself more comfortably, straddling his hips, rocking, just once, against him. That one action almost proved to be his undoing—he bit his lip to prevent a groan, but it escaped just the same. It was then that he caught her eyes for the first time since their kiss: in the firelight they remained clear, bright, the colour of summer sky and autumn leaves, and they looked into him with an intensity that made his own eyes water. Her thoughts, her intentions, were plainly etched, and the only thing that stopped her was her perception of his uncertainty. She suddenly lowered herself, perhaps in an attempt to convince him, and her mouth found his neck. If he thought the women he had previously been with had discovered his sensitivity there, he now discovered his mistake—Serena was licking, biting, sucking him in a way that turned his body into a roaring furnace. And she did not neglect the rest of him with her kisses: her breasts were pressed against his chest, her nipples hard; her fingers continued to thread themselves in his hair, her fingertips occasionally tightening on a spot that sent waves of pleasure from his head; and her lower body, that expanse of soft, creamy flesh that had kept exposing itself in his mind, was now rubbing against him in a rhythm that made him want to plunge into her with reckless abandon. And when Darien was tethered on the edge of the decision he still had to make, he found himself throbbing against the warm wetness that was waiting for him, ready.

When she pulled back and looked at him again in the searching way she had before, it was clear to them both that the conclusion to be made tonight would be hers. Their gazes still locked, Serena lifted herself off him before making the deliciously slow descent that finally took him deep inside her.

The pleasure was a low note that thrummed within him, but he did not take his eyes away from her. He saw, with wonder, that his own sense of completion was reflected in her expression. The knowledge that they were sharing more than just their bodies touched him in a way that he had failed to recognise before now, and Darien submitted himself to her completely. She was in control now, of his life, of his soul, and he could do, would do, nothing to stop it. As Serena began to ride him in her own torturous pace, her languorous strokes eliciting cries from them both, Darien found the joy in relinquishing his power. Knowing that Serena was happy, that she was deriving pleasure from their interlude, sent a thrill of satisfaction through him. His own ambitions and thoughts seemed redundant now, and were only esteemed because she continued to care; even then, the sheer honesty in her eyes told him of her unspoken promises, and Darien knew he had everything he ever truly wanted.

Serena had barely increased her tempo, but what they were sharing had its own intensity that transcended the physical. In the breathtaking moment where the universe froze and only the painfully beautiful sensation of savouring the heights before the fall was registered, Darien knew, with utmost clarity, that they had made that climb together, and would take the tumble, together. Their hands found each other's, and as she tightened around him and he sent himself spilling into her, they soared across the sky as one. Only then did he close his eyes, and even then, all he could see was the endless blue that was now his world.

* * *

Darien was still asleep when Serena quietly slipped out of bed and dressed. She stoked the fire and checked the closed curtains before she gave him one last look, a smile tugging on her lips. The man was curled under the thick woollen blankets, his expression peaceful, almost innocent. As Serena left the room and closed the door behind her, her heart soared at knowing she could see the same contentment on his face, the white sheets smoothing away the years of experience and burdens.

The chill of the empty hallway immediately made Serena grateful for the coat she had on, the coat that once belong to Darien's mother. She remembered the sadness in his voice, the shifting gaze, and Serena suddenly wondered about Darien's family. He had never mentioned them before; perhaps they had suffered a similar fate as her parents. Perhaps he had approached her so easily in the first place because they were connected by the unspeakable cruelties of their pasts. The curiosity gnawed at her, but Serena shook her head firmly. She would ask him about it the next time they were in private.

It amazed her to find that the way around these corridors had quietly been instilled in her for the past few months. She found the dining area without any trouble, though she did not know what to make of her newfound familiarity. Did this strange sense of comfort mean she had unknowingly turned into someone completely different?

She heard quick footsteps behind her, and was soon joined by Lita and Nephrite, who had arrived together. They exchanged their greetings, and then entered the dining hall. The rest of the women were already well into their meal and seemed eager to set foot outside the palace. Serena ate quickly and quietly, the food warming her spirits. They each had a cup of the strong, bitter coffee before they left their seats and made their way to the stables. Word of their arrival must have preceded them, for the grooms had saddled six horses, ready to ride. After mounting and briefly adjusting the stirrups, the sextet kicked their horses into motion. The pounding of hooves against stone resounded in the morning air, until they left the palace walls and the gray path before them turned into the white of snow that had not yet been cleared. Serena remained beside Amelia, well behind Lita and Nephrite, who led them on the unmarked road. They were quickly approaching a wooden signpost that split the road into two separate directions, when Serena saw a solitary figure in the near distance. She shouted her warning, and Nephrite replied with something she did not understand. The horses around her were beginning to slow, and Serena pulled hard on her reigns, slowing her mount to a trot just before she reached the strange traveller.

But she was not looking at a shepherd searching for strays, nor a merchant selling his goods on the road. The man was dirty and frightened, trembling with the effort to stay on his feet. His clothes were soaked through, and Serena could see the sweat and blood that clung to his hair. And the eyes, those farseeing eyes, showed the last drops of desperation before one resigned to their fate. They were eyes that she once had, eyes that had seen war, and death, eyes that were full of hate.

She could not forget those eyes even when they left her and fixed themselves on Nephrite, who had ridden to them. He dismounted quickly; not soon after his shoes hit the ground did the stranger collapse into the arms of the General. Nephrite immediately removed his coat, wrapping it around the man, then called for food and water. But the stranger only shook his head and tightened his hold on the General's arm, commanding his full attention.

"My Lord," he rasped, "please, I cannot take my news with me to my grave."

"Do not speak thus," Nephrite said, though his voice betrayed his uncertainty. "You will live for many years to come. There is a physician here, and she will tend to you. Amelia!"

The man whimpered, tears streaming down his face as he struggled to remain on the edge. "It will be no use; all will burn and perish. They slipped into the city, and in the darkest hour, they attacked. They slaughtered the women, the children. We should've seen this coming, and now all is lost. They will win the war."

He stopped, gasping for breath. The tears had now frozen on his cheek, the first visible sign of his body's death. All that remained was the delivery of his last message; after the words were uttered and dissipated into the air, there would be no more reason to live.

"Restille has been taken."

* * *

_AN: Please review._


	19. Chapter 18

**As the Eagle Flies**

I was going to go on a rambly thank-you rant when I reached the end of the story, but I really need to thank Sid for his helpful insights on this chapter. Of course, thanks are always due to my lovely editor and good friend Alan, who has to put up with my endless narcissistic questions ("Have you read it yet? Can you have it edited by Saturday night? Do you think my readers will want to hurt me after I--------------? Are you free tomorrow for dinner? You're craving a chocolate dessert, right? Can you please, please, pleeeaaase let me go to the bookstore—I promise not to buy any books! Do you think manga counts as books?")

And of course, thank _you_ for reading so far! Only two more chapters to go!

* * *

Chapter 18

The Shitennou waited for their Prince to speak. Zoisite, Jadeite, Kunzite, and Nephrite stood unmoving in their straight line, their bodies tense, their minds alert. It was difficult to imagine there was a time when they had to be mindful of their postures, when a sharp reminder corrected their misplaced hands, their wandering eyes that blinked too much. Years had passed since these four finally breathed as not ordinary men, but Heavenly Kings—thousands of times they had stood in the same way, wearing the same neutral expression, fulfilling the same oath they had sworn to protect and honour and obey the Prince of Sairelle. But only now did they understand why such protocols were kept, why a General was forbidden to speak in the company of their liege unless they were addressed directly or given permission: a lifetime of discipline had prepared them for this situation, where order would descend into chaos had the Shitennou the right to act impulsively and based on their feelings. The fate of countless lives would be decided, were already being affected, and the judgement was to be made based on the cold, hard truth.

When the Prince finally spoke, his voice betrayed none of his thoughts. "Make sure our informer receives a proper burial."

Nephrite took a step forward. Being the only one who watched the unknown man as he drew his last breath, the General knew this specific task was his responsibility. "It will be done, your Highness."

"Do not try to locate his family," the Prince continued. "You are not to set food within ten leagues of Restille."

The command took them all by surprise, but the Shitennou knew better than to question. Nephrite nodded, bowed, and returned to his place in the line. The room fell into silence again, and though none of the men expressed their desire to speak up about the matter, the feeling of urgency simmered beneath the words they could not say.

"Lord Zoisite." The General stepped forward without any hesitation. "Locate the self-proclaimed leader to the citizens of Tristone."

"I will bring him to you," Zoisite replied, bowing.

The Prince barely acknowledged Zoisite's words. "Lord Jadeite." The brothers moved in perfect synchrony, taking that exact, calculated step that was required of them from their liege. "Send instruction to every city of Sairelle. If anyone makes any move to greet visitors not bearing the Royal Standard, then they will be impaled with any arrow meant for the enemy."

They had all kept their suspicions at bay, but the Prince's certainty propelled those thoughts into reality, dispelling the comfortable illusion they had believed in for such a short amount of time. The capital of Sairelle, like all other cities in the country, had been in lockdown since the war began, concessions only being made when the Councils took place. Diamond's army, however carefully and quietly they arrived, would not have been able to breach Restille's defences if it were not for the information provided to them from within the walls of the city. The Shitennou personally knew the Captains and Commanders sworn to protect the capital, and the Generals silently grieved for them, whether they were murdered or the murderers. They kept the certain names and faces of possible traitors to themselves, and although such a betrayal would not be overlooked, the men understood that now was not the time to devise punishments.

"Your wish is my command, your Highness," Jadeite replied with a hint of malice. When the time came, they would extract from the traitors what they had so freely given to the enemy—and it would be neither quick nor painless.

As Jadeite stepped back in line with the other Generals, the leader of the Shitennou lifted his chin slightly, ready to be called into service by his Prince. He did not wait long.

"Lord Kunzite," the Prince said, his gaze fixed on the taller man, "even the most disciplined of knights will be restless. Quell them."

All four Shitennou were taken aback by the distinct order, but Kunzite hid it well; the General only bowed and turned his incredulity into a question. "How many armies am I to visit, your Highness?"

Endymion's eyes spoke louder than words. "All of them."

So the Prince had chosen not to attack, but to bide the time while he played the last piece that was still in his possession. The resolve in the Prince's eyes told them of his confidence; the thin line of his lips told them of his doubts. But the friend they all held dear fled at the news of his kingdom slowly slipping from his grasp, and the Shitennou knew there was no possibility of negotiation.

"I will see it done, your Highness."

Their tasks had been allocated and there was no room for further discussion, but the Prince did not dismiss his Generals. Nephrite's mouth dried when the Prince's attention turned to him, and the General struggled against the urge to swallow, a movement that would betray and condemn him.

"I take it that Lady Serenity was in your company when this most unfortunate news was delivered." Nephrite simply nodded in response to the Prince. "How much did she hear?"

The General's voice cracked as he gave his response, and the sound echoed through the room. "He died in her arms, your Highness."

For a moment Darien returned, the confusion and helplessness flashing across his face. But before the Shitennou had the time to take another breath, the Prince leashed his emotions and replaced his uncertainty with a hot anger that had no proper outlet.

The Shitennou stood unmoving in their straight line, neither flinching nor blinking when Endymion left the room without a further word.

* * *

Serena allowed herself to be gathered in Darien's arms, where she was instantly enshrouded with words that made little sense but were ripe with meaning. She returned his embrace, but it was soon evident that she did not match his enthusiasm at their reunion. Darien slowly withdrew, hurt and slighted, and Serena ached in response. He opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him by reaching for his hand, hoping to convey that her indifference was not directed at him. She knew the moment he felt her tremors, the smallest of movements between their joined hands, when he dipped his head, his eyes softening with understanding.

She appreciated it when he led them to sit by a table and poured a glass of water for them both, but when she lifted it to her lips, all she could smell was the blood that had not quite been washed from her hands. Immediately sensing the cause of her discomfort, Darien took her hand and led her to the small wooden room that held the bathing tub. Serena protested at first, but Darien had already rung for a bath to be drawn. After Mina came and left, he closed the door and helped her out of the clothing that was soaked with melted snow. She flinched at his touch, but Darien gave her a look that was almost a command. She gave in to his will, only gasping when the hot water seared her frozen skin. His hands remained firm against her struggle, loosening when she was fully submerged. Then he reached for the soap and scrubbed the blood from her hands. She was glad that he asked no questions, and allowed herself to relax when his strong fingers massaged her scalp, momentarily banishing all other thought.

But the bath and their companionable silence could not last forever, and before Serena could voice her gratitude, Darien had lifted her from the tub and wrapped a thick towel around her. He carried her to the adjacent bedroom, quickly finding a set of clothes and helping her into the pantalettes, the chemise, the four petticoats, and finally, a plain burgundy dress. He sat her down at the vanity and proceeded to brush her long, wet hair; from the reflection in the looking glass, Serena could see his concentration as Darien worked to free a tangle. When he was finally finished, she turned in her seat to look at him properly, hoping that he could see in her eyes what she could not find the words to say.

To her relief, Darien smiled in response and fetched them both a glass of water. This time she drank the contents greedily, not realising how thirsty she had been. He refilled it for her, and waited until Serena set down the glass.

"How do you feel now?" he asked quietly, his thumb gently rubbing the back of her hand.

"Still a bit bewildered," she answered in a small voice. "I didn't expect…he was bleeding from a wound in his back, and yet he walked through the night, only to meet his death… And his eyes, they were like the eyes of my father, my brother…Oh Darien, it was, it was just…"

He was ready to take her in his arms again, but she stopped and collected herself, forcing the tears back. She thought about how she had laughed and played music and danced and made love while the innocent citizens of Restille, those proud, giving men and women and children, were slaughtered and discarded like unwanted toys. The clean, gray stones of the city she had only visited once would never be the same again—in her mind, Serena could clearly see the scarlet that stained the streets, the fires that claimed the bodies while they still breathed.

She asked her next question not out of curiosity, but a need to know the answer as much as she needed air and water. Serena saw that he was ready, that he would deny her nothing.

"How do Endymion's intentions lie with me?"

"From what we understand," Darien said slowly, "the Prince is intent on keeping you hostage until Diamond relents."

It did not surprise her that Endymion had known about Diamond, and she wondered how much the Prince had shared with his men. The thought of the Prince disclosing her private matters disgusted her, and Serena knew that she had a responsibility to Darien, that he should hear the truth from her own mouth. She owed him that much.

"Diamond and I are to be married," she said. There was no surprise in Darien's expression, only a nod of acknowledgement. So he had known all along. The thought should have irked her, but she was only relieved at Darien's acceptance. "It was an arrangement over which I had no control. Diamond was pressed to find an appropriate woman to become his Queen and consequently produce an heir. I happened to be the obvious choice."

"You have such a love for your country, that I'm sure being Queen of Chiston would not be a bad life." His honesty and his wish for her happiness pained her.

"You are severely mistaken." There were so many things Serena had not shared with Darien; he had been so open with her, so devoted, and Serena felt that it was time for her to treat him with the same respect. "I abhor the thought of having anything to do with Diamond."

He was listening patiently, his hand squeezing hers in encouragement, and taking a deep breath, Serena continued.

"Diamond is a cruel King, a selfish King who cares little for his people. He has an outward appearance of being charming and elegant, but there is no warmth or compassion in him, only ambition, endless ambition. His desire to please his court and the members of his council are driven by his need to succeed, and when it was clear that they disapproved of his licentious ways, Diamond decided a temporary settlement would serve him well. An heir would also serve him well, if he was to be personally trained and sculpted by Diamond." The thought of being so intimate with the King made Serena sick, and she took a sip of her water before continuing.

"He is afraid of the revolt that he has on his hands. Not afraid for his people, or for the damage it might cause, the dividing of loyalties and the consequences of the struggle, but of what it means to his own position. That is why he has agreed to wage war on Sairelle—to direct the anger of his people to another country, one with whom we have had tenuous relations. I'm sure that word of my capture has already spread to all corners of my country, and the anger would be stirred until Chiston's armies will want nothing more than to destroy Sairelle and win this war. I'm afraid that Endymion has played straight into Diamond's hands with my capture."

"And yet you have done nothing to deserve this."

Serena hesitated once again, unsure of how much she should reveal. Finally, she said, "I listen to the people. Diamond is using that to his advantage."

Darien must have heard the brokenness in her voice, must have felt the pain that tore at her loyalties, for he pulled her close to him, his arms tightening around her, his hands making their sweeps along her body. She closed her eyes and relaxed into him, trying to erase all the thoughts that had been plaguing her—the blood, the bodies, the anguish that had been left behind in Restille, so similar to her last memories of Tristone. And at last, she felt the dawning of a realisation she had fought: these innocents suffered not under the cruel hand of a faraway power she did not know, but were sentenced to death by her own liege, the one she was deigned to marry. The truth shook her from her roots, but Darien was there, whispering, calming, and she allowed his caresses to smooth away the visions of death.

He held her for a long time, providing her with the support she needed, and then her arms slid along his neck, her lips finding his, and he satisfied another deeper need.

Afterwards, they lay together in bed, cocooned in each other's warmth, reluctant to move away from the haven they had created. But a man's duty had the power to take away what he held most dear, and Serena only nodded in understanding when Darien gently removed himself from her embrace. He dressed quickly and promised to return later, though he hesitantly added that she should not wait for him.

Serena closed her eyes and listened to his footsteps as they faded into the silence of the palace, her prison, and did nothing to stop the tears that slipped down as the reality of her world finally caught up to her.

* * *

Serena watched the dreary illumination outside fade into darkness, and still there was no word. She had lost count of the hour, but her body was reprimanding her for the meals she had missed. A few times she made the decision to venture outside her room, but all she could think about as she approached the door was how the entire palace mourned the lives that had been taken by her people. For so many weeks she had felt like a victim, but now the tables had turned and she was the perpetrator, the well-bred, ignorant woman who had a close association with the much despised King. The helplessness made her restless, but it was not enough to dispel the anxiety she had about leaving the safety of her room.

She had never been so relieved when she heard three quiet knocks on the door, and Serena was greeted with the sight of Amelia, who did not seem as joyous at their meeting. Not knowing how to interpret Amelia's obvious discomfort, Serena opened the door wider, trying to maintain her own sense of calm.

"I'm glad to see that you're all right, Amelia. Would you like to come in?"

The other girl gave a quick nod and stepped inside, revealing to Serena the small basket she was carrying. Serena instantly recognised it as the one they had prepared earlier that day for their trip, and though it brought forth the images of the dying man, Serena felt her stomach grumble in response. They walked silently to the table, and Serena poured a drink for them both. Amelia asked if she had eaten, and when Serena responded that she had not, they both laid out the pastries, their mind on anything but the food. When they had taken enough bites to soothe their appetites, Serena folded her hands before her and readied herself for their conversation.

"Thank you for sharing the meal," she said sincerely.

"I thought that perhaps you had not yet eaten," was Amelia's reply. "I'm sorry it wasn't much."

"To be honest, I don't think either of us is too concerned with the taste of her food," Serena said softly. "You must have many things on your mind at the moment."

Amelia gave Serena a weak smile. "I knew it wouldn't take you long to question me. I know it's a part of your charm, but sometimes I wish you didn't have such a way with words, with people."

"You give me too much credit," Serena replied. "If I were as you described, no lives would have been lost in Restille."

Amelia reached for her hand. "This burden is not yours to bear, Serena. You had nothing to do with what happened."

"It could have been prevented. I could have spoken up and taken action." Serena shook her head at Amelia's confusion. "I am at fault here, Amelia. I should not have sat idly within these walls when I could have tried to stop this war."

"This war is out of all our hands," Amelia said, though she seemed unsure. "It has been brewing since the moment Diamond's forces broke through Restille thirteen years ago and claimed the life of the Queen."

This was unknown to her. "Sairelle's Queen was killed during the siege?"

"I'm sure the detail isn't known to most Chistonians, but our entire country mourned for the loss of Her Late Majesty Queen Rosaline, the kindest and fairest ruler you could ever know. She loved her people and would attend Councils dressed plainly as another member of the public, taking it upon herself to ensure that the citizens were treated fairly. That was the last trip she ever made."

She knew it was an insensitive question, but Serena had to ease the guilt that suddenly piled upon her conscience. "How did she die?"

Amelia took a moment to consider before answering, "She took a sword to the heart and was burned with the other bodies. Her ring was the only thing that was left behind for the living." The girl paused to catch her breath. "The King was devastated with his loss and went completely mad until he devoted his life to one single mission: to avenge the death of his beloved wife. After the Chistonian troops were evicted from Restille and our two countries eventually returned its attention to their own lands, the hostility continued to ripple beneath the surface. This war has been brewing since then."

Serena was lost for words, and said the first thing that entered her mind. "We are not brutal savages," she defended. "There are only a few in my country who want this war."

As soon as she spoke on behalf of her own people, Serena felt the weight of her betrayal crush down on her. In her eagerness to please those around her, she had shown preference for the Sairellen way of things and turned a blind eye to her own country, her home. But the first drops of rain had fallen, and there was no stopping the torrent that was to follow.

"There is so much good in my country, in my people," Serena continued, her voice rising. "We are proud of our ways, of our values, and for good reason. The heart of our lives lie with our families, and the strength of that blood bond is indestructible. Perhaps we are not as lucid and flexible as you Sairellens, but we have our priorities straight, we know that nothing can surpass the love a mother has for her child, the devotion a husband has for his wife, the respect a daughter has for her father. We have all strived to protect our own families, and yet you come into our lands and take away our mothers, our fathers, our brothers and sisters, into a place where we cannot reach them, leaving us as broken husks of what we were before. Do you think we find pleasure in fighting, in warring with you, when all a soldier wants to do is return to a life where he could go home everyday and kiss his wife and children?"

"I'm sorry about your family," Amelia managed to say, when Serena finally fell silent. "I would never wish such devastation upon anyone."

Serena closed her eyes, trying to gather the myriad of feelings storming within her. She suddenly felt sorry for Amelia, who had taken blame for something she had not committed. "I'm sorry, too," Serena whispered. "It was not right of me to speak so harshly against you."

Amelia squeezed her hand in reassurance. "I have accepted, long ago, that the world is far from perfect and righteous. But each and every one of us is given several chances in life to choose what they believe is right, and if those judgements are true to their beliefs and feelings, then we are in need of nothing more."

The words introduced a logic that Serena could not deny. The heaviness on her chest was slowly lifted away, though it left a residue that did not disappear completely. "There is certainly more to you than meets the eye, Lady Amelia."

The girl smiled. "Now you are the one who is giving out too much credit. I am merely someone with too much time on her hands who prefers to spend it on reading and thinking."

"I do believe we need more such persons in this world." The slight turn of the conversation led Serena to another thought. "Amelia, did you have something you wanted to talk about?"

The faint blush that stained the other girl's cheeks told Serena the new subject of the discussion. "It's such a trifling matter at times such as these, when our world is being stained with so many other issues that are much more important."

"Perhaps it may be a trifling matter in the grand scheme of things," Serena replied, trying to give Amelia as much support as she could, "but I'm sure it means the world to you. So, please, unburden yourself and allow me to help in any way I can." Amelia continued to be unsure, but Serena persisted. "It is the seemingly trivial things that make us human, Amelia. We must not belittle the very essence that makes our lives worthwhile."

Amelia gave a small nod, and began to speak, her voice barely a murmur. "Lord Zoisite and I…we… Last night, after dinner, he escorted me to my rooms, and…we kissed."

However ludicrous it seemed, the news of the progress in Amelia and Zoisite's relationship lightened Serena's mood. "And how was it?"

"It was…rather exquisite," Amelia squeaked. She buried her face in her hands, and spoke so quickly that Serena almost missed her next words. "But nothing happened beyond that."

Serena did not completely comprehend the situation, but she wanted nothing more than to alleviate her friend's embarrassment. "I believe it's perfectly acceptable for two people who care about each other very much to spend a quiet evening together without needing to be physically intimate."

"Thank you," Amelia said after a pause, though she still continued to avoid Serena's gaze. "But I fear the problem lies in the fact that we both…wanted to."

At Amelia's admission, Serena shifted in her seat, wondering whether the discussion fell into her area of expertise. Darien was the first real lover she ever had, and she never felt the need to ponder on what occurred between them in bed. She was about to suggest speaking to Rachael or Lita, who, from their constant innuendos during conversations, seemed to be far more insightful on the subject, but taking another look at Amelia's flushed cheeks told Serena that was out of the question. The girl had chosen to speak to her instead of the other women, and Serena had to honour that decision. She started by being honest with Amelia.

"I have but a few months of experience," Serena said, "and I fear that there are still a great many things that I only know in theory. Perhaps if you wouldn't mind elaborating on your situation so I can have a better understanding of it…?"

The girl seemed surprised at Serena's own admission, and though her brow was still furrowed, Amelia's shoulders relaxed slightly. "We were…enjoying the feel of each other, and wanted to…extend our explorations." Serena nodded at this, and Amelia took a deep breath. "It was necessary for our clothing to be removed, and we both ended up in bed, wearing only that which was bestowed to us during birth. Lord Zoisite"—her voice wavered at speaking his name—"was eager for a union, and although I was only too happy to oblige…"

She trailed off, leaving Serena to prompt her. "Did it become painful?" The sudden trembling of Amelia's lips gave Serena her answer. "And so he stopped persisting?"

"I should not have taken him up on his offer," Amelia murmured. "He is sure to want nothing to do with me hereafter."

"Do not presume thus," Serena insisted. "I do not believe it is in Lord Zoisite's nature to end your association for such a cause."

"He excused himself rather hastily," Amelia replied, unconvinced.

Knowing Amelia was certain about her own conclusions, Serena looked for a different approach. "Have you known Lord Zoisite for a considerable amount of time?"

"Yes, a fair while," Amelia said, remembering their initial meeting. "We were first acquainted when he was barely eighteen, and now he is two and twenty."

"And in that time, has he ever taken a lover?"

Amelia thought quietly for a moment, then shook her head slowly. "I don't believe he has," she said. "At least, not to my knowledge."

"As much as I'm sure Lord Zoisite prefers to be discrete about the private company he keeps, I think he is one to show a great deal of respect to any Ladies with whom he is intimate."

"I suppose so…"

"Then my dear Amelia," Serena said, now satisfied with the conclusion she had drawn, "do not be offended or hurt by his behaviour, for it is very probable that Lord Zoisite has been struggling with circumstances in a way that is not so dissimilar to yours. In fact, it would not be hard to believe that he has been trying to find a quiet moment to speak with his close friends about certain events that took place last night—events that has very little to do with Restille."

If anything, the other girl was alarmed by the revelation. "He is going to disclose such information about me with the other men?"

"I am certain Lord Zoisite will ensure that you are treated with the utmost respect, and that the subject is discussed in the civility, not unlike our own approach." With a reassuring, albeit slightly cheeky, smile, Serena added, "And I'm sure you will both benefit from a more much pleasurable encounter the next time you two are alone."

Amelia returned the smile, and then shook her head sadly. "The opportunities for such are growing slimmer by the minute," she said. "He has already been assigned to several tasks; now is not the time to pursue such personal endeavours."

The situation at hand crept back into Serena's consciousness. A question had nagged at her throughout the day, and though Serena felt guilty about taking advantage of Amelia's friendship, it was one that had to be voiced. "Do any of those tasks include leading an army to march into Chiston?"

Serena could see from her hesitation that Amelia knew the answer; she waited patiently for the girl to respond, keeping her own gaze level with the other's. Finally, Amelia spoke.

"No, they do not. The Shitennou are gathering their armies to secure Sairelle's defences, but they harbour no intention to attack your country."

The relief those words brought was mixed with guilt; but for what, Serena was not yet sure. Amelia's response had thrust her upon the brink of a decision, one that she needed to make before it was too late.

"Thank you, Amelia, for your company and the insight you've shared this evening."

The other woman nodded, sensing Serena's need for solitude. "Thank you for your patience and advice. I would be more than willing to return the favour, if such a situation should ever arise."

Serena smiled, acknowledging Amelia's offer. But they both knew nothing more of consequence could be said between the two that evening, and they were both simply adapting the formalities. "I greatly appreciate your generosity," the blonde said, "but there are a few things that require my attention at the moment. I'm afraid I must take advantage of your offer at another time."

"I understand," Amelia said, rising from her seat. As they made their way to the door, Serena could not help but think that, despite her gratitude towards Amelia's empathy, the other girl was nowhere in the position to understand her situation. They half-heartedly exchanged their farewells, and Serena was left alone with her thoughts again.

The room fell into silence once more, and Serena took her seat by the table, listening to the stillness of the night. A quick glance around the room told Serena both the candles and the fire required tending, but she did not move. Instead, she watched as the flames alight on the candelabra hungrily devoured the wick and wax until, one by one, they gave a last desperate cry and went out completely. And finally, when the light in the fireplace, burning since the first breaths of winter, flickered and died, Serena gathered her thoughts and her skirts and, aided by the faint glow of the approaching dawn that slipped through a small parting of the curtains, found her way to the door, to the corridors that would lead her to a single destination.

She had made up her mind. She saw the kindness in the Shitennou, in Darien, and there was no more need to stubbornly fight against them, against herself. She loved her country, was proud of her heritage—but the people who currently ruled were a separate matter. If she betrayed the idea of her country in order to secure the happiness of its people, would it still be seen as treason? It mattered not. If it was a crime, she had already committed it countless times before now, in her thoughts, her words, her actions—and she felt no remorse. It was the people who mattered, and the people would be treated well. She had seen it at the Council, had experienced it for herself. She had the encouragement and friendship of the Four Heavenly Kings, of Darien. The real King could be talked to, even persuaded. His son was just a useless pawn with no authority, no power. He did not have the courage to show his face—how had he managed to run such a prosperous country for so many years? No, it was not him, but those who represented the man and served him in the face of the public.

Serena had reached the double doors of Darien's study, her mind made up. She would assist him, do what he asked of her, and more. She heard the subdued voices within, and her resolution swelled; the Shitennou were there, and they would listen to what she had to declare, would react immediately so that no time would be lost, no further lives taken. They were undoubtedly gathered to discuss their approach to the war, oblivious to the fact that she could provide them with an answer, a way to resolve the conflict between their two countries, to prevent the bloodshed of tens of thousands. Heart soaring, Serena pushed open the doors.

The voice was louder now, and although she recognised it as Kunzite's, she still could not make out the words. As she approached where they were standing, Serena noticed the beautiful painting, the one with the many shades and hues which had taken her breath away from the first moment she laid her eyes upon it. _As the Eagle Flies_, Darien had called it. But it did not leave only destruction in its wake; the darkness gave way to lighter tones, the bleakness paving the way for life and hope. She would give them that glimmer, that beginning they needed.

And then she saw them. At first Serena could not comprehend what her eyes conveyed. The Shitennou stood neatly in a straight line, not a foot out of place. On the ground slightly before them kneeled a man, dressed in familiar clothes, his dark hair covering his face. And before them, standing opposite the Shitennou, was a dark, powerful man, half submerged in the shadows.

They must have noticed her presence, for Kunzite stopped talking, and they looked in her direction. Then the figure on the ground turned as well, and Serena found herself shaking as she recognised the features of a face she knew all too well.

"Seiya…" Her own voice carried throughout the room, the whisper disappearing before it reached her ears again. Then she repeated, slightly louder, "Seiya."

He made a move to stand up, but something caused him to hesitate. Serena felt her body move in its own accord as the questions swarmed, questions that needed answering.

"Seiya, what are you doing here?"

He glanced at the man for permission, and after a flick of a wrist, Seiya turned his attention back to Serena.

"Lady Serenity," he said, looking up at Serena from the ground, "I am so glad to see that you are doing well." He then addressed the man who was still half-hidden in darkness. "Thank you for looking after her; you have kept to your word, your Highness."

A sharp chill shot through her; it was not just the coolness of the room that made her shudder. Her gaze travelled from Seiya to the Shitennou, and finally, to the man to whom Seiya had spoken. He made a small movement, one that allowed just enough of the morning light to reveal him for who he was, what he was, and Serena felt all warmth leave her body.

She was looking at Darien, but it was not Darien. The man she knew and loved did not have such a tight jaw, lips that were drawn so tightly she could barely see them, eyes that were devoid of feeling, of humanity. But then he moved, shifted slightly so that a few locks of his thick, black hair fell into his eyes and they were filled with desperation, and she saw the difference and no difference at all.

And though she did not need any confirmations, though she had already started to give in to the sweet coldness that now had her in its clutches, she heard her own voice escape her lips, the emptiness so foreign, but oh so welcome, to her ears.

"You are Endymion."

Her eyes challenged him silently to deny it, but they had both travelled too far and the only way now was down. His own voice, when he replied, was dark and sensuous, piano and forte, an echo of what she had heard so many times before.

"At your service, Lady Angelline."

She ignored the cruel curve of his lips, the dark eyes that radiated his power. Instead, she directed her anger, her single-minded intent at the man who was still kneeling on the floor.

"Seiya, give me your sword."

Her command was met with an incredulous look from Seiya. "My Lady, I think perhaps it is best for you to reconsider—"

"I did not ask for your opinion, Seiya." Her voice was smooth and hard, like marble. "Give me your sword."

"My Lady, I assure you, my alliance with the Sairellens will end with the overthrowing of Diamond, which will benefit—"

She silenced him with a knife-sharp look. "I care not for your deceit and treason." Then, she added in her native tongue, "Do not make me repeat myself again."

But it soon became obvious that her demands were to no avail, and only served to bring Seiya to his feet, where he towered over the defiant woman. "Calm yourself," he said in Chistonian. "Neither of us hold any love for Diamond or Endymion, but the Prince is lending us his resources so we can rid the worthless King from our lands. Is that not what you've always wanted?"

To the surprise of everyone in the room, Serena laughed, a grating noise that made the men wince. She slipped back into the Common Tongue, her quiet voice full of disgust. "You speak so highly of Prince Endymion, but in actuality, he is tenfold more dishonourable and merciless as his reputation has painted. He is a murderer, an adulterer, and above all else, a liar. Having been a victim of his elaborate, fanciful facades, I would advise you not to trust anything that his Highness says."

Seiya narrowed his eyes, the first hints of suspicion passing through him. "We agreed that the Lady would not be harmed in any way," he said to the Prince, "but her speech suggests otherwise. Is there an explanation to this?"

For a moment, the Prince seemed speechless—but then he took a step forward in a small, fluid movement. "I am afraid the Lady and I have some unsettled business between us. But I do not think it wise to burden the fairer sex with talk of war; Lady Angelline, if you would care to return to your chambers?"

The woman started to speak again, but Seiya took hold of her hand, pulling her to him. "My Lady, please," he addressed Serena in Chistonian, his expression one of urgency, "mitigate the prejudice you hold against these people. We have no choice here—I have already told them all I know about Diamond's positions, and have gathered our own armies to fight for what is right by our people. The civilians will not be able to withstand an attack from Sairelle, should Endymion choose to launch his forces against us. What you have endured will soon be over—we _must_ co-operate with them."

Serena stared at the man she had known almost all her life, and wondered how he had become a stranger. Then she held out her free hand. "Give me your sword."

"Serena—"

She sprung on him, leaving Seiya fighting for his balance. Before they knew what was happening, Serena had unsheathed his sword, grasping its heavy weight with both hands, the sharp tip only inches away from the Prince's heart. Vaguely she heard the Shitennou react behind her, but Darien simply held up his hand and settled his gaze on her.

"If you so much breathe a word," she said in a cold whisper, "death will be upon you before your sentence is finished."

The Prince made no move towards her, but he also did not cower at the sight of the weapon. As Serena fought back the tremors that travelled to her hands, Darien re-evaluated the situation, the sudden turn of events that brought them all to the mercy of a single woman. The decision took less than a breath to make, but in that moment, he saw his entire life flash before him.

He parted his lips, drawing air through his mouth, his voice a plea, a tender caress. "Serena."

She hesitated for the briefest heartbeat—and it was too long.

"Serena," he said again, a torrent of emotions in that single word, and grasped the blade within his hand. His grip tightened, and though blood had begun to stream down his arm, the Prince gave no sign of feeling any pain. Then, ever so slowly, he moved the sword away, until Serena released her hold and the weapon fell to the floor with a clatter. His gaze never left hers, and as the metallic tang of blood filled the air between them, Darien's sapphire eyes bore into her own soul.

She tore herself away before he overcame her last defence, and looked down at his hands, those beautiful, long fingers, only to feel the hotness arise inside her. She had once held those same blood-stained hands with warmth and endearment, and believed they were the pair she was to hold with the same tender devotion, until they became ghastly and gnarled with age. She had allowed those hands to roam her body, igniting her skin with every soft and deliberate touch, and believed they were the only pair that could coax her to beg and plead for more, and could satisfy those needs with one stroke. She had entwined those hands with her own, and believed only her own slender fingers could fit so perfectly with his, could be so interlocked and melded into one. She had believed and loved those hands, and as she coldly stamped out the fires of anger, the remnants of passion, she knew that a broken part of her would always believe, always love.

And knowing that, she had no choice but to hate the man.

When she raised her head again to return his searching gaze, they both knew that the victory they had almost secured was lost in the nascence of this next battle, the outcomes of which they could no longer control. Driven by this knowledge, Serena turned, left the room, and never once looked back.

* * *

_AN: Please review!_


	20. Chapter 19

**As the Eagle Flies**

Here's the penultimate chapter of this story. I'm hoping to have the next (and final) chapter up next weekend, but please forgive me if you have to extend the wait to a fortnight. My editor and I have both started uni classes again, and unfortunately, our schedules are somewhat out of sync (which leads to messy, typo-filled chapters lying untouched for weeks at a time).

Please enjoy this, and I'll see you again (hopefully) next week!

* * *

Chapter 19

She was not surprised when she heard footsteps behind her not half an hour after she stepped outside the tower where the eagles were kept. The sun was making its steady climb to claim its ownership of the world, casting its rays on the white snow covering the city that surrounded the palace. Serena studied the way the light gave the buildings a strange gleam that was almost cruel, and wondered about the people who lived under the striking veneer of their glittering rooftops.

"You must be very cold." The voice belonged to Mina, who was standing beside Serena and offering her the dark purple coat that belonged to Darien's mother, to the late Queen.

Serena made no move to take it.

Unsure of what to do, Mina hesitated before draping the heavy material around Serena's shoulders. Serena did not protest, nor did she acknowledge Mina's presence. The coat would not stay without help, and after a moment's thought, Mina gently lifted Serena's arms and dressed the apathetic woman. Serena did not flinch, and simply kept her gaze fixed in the distance.

"The winter is very harsh," Mina finally said after a long silence, "and you must look after yourself."

The words were followed by two more sets of footsteps, the rhythm of their walk matching the steady pounding of blood in her ears.

"Let us take a seat inside and talk about this," Rachael said. "Standing here will do you no good."

Serena made no move.

"Please, listen to us," Amelia tried, "and let us explain. The situation is not entirely as you perceive it!"

They shifted and pulled their coats tighter around them when Serena's eyes remained cold and distant. They relaxed slightly when they were joined by the Countess.

"Serena, do not be unreasonable," Lita said, a hand on Serena's arm. "We are still the same people, the same friends who pray for your happiness; what you have learnt changes nothing."

Serena did not spare Lita a glance. "Please unhand me at once, Countess, and take care not to address me so personally in the future."

The sharp intakes of breath she heard told Serena of the women's surprise and shock, but she returned her attention to the visage before her and ignored the women's reaction, as if their sounds were merely a hitch in the passing breeze. She revelled in the short silence that followed and closed her eyes, already knowing the exact positions of those who stood around her.

Was it only yesterday that they had whispered and laughed together, finding delight in each other's company? Was it only last week that she had shared her innermost feelings with these Ladies, individuals whom she had grown to respect and love? She remembered all too clearly the initial reservations she had towards each of these women, and she only felt shame and disgust as she wondered why and when she began to drink their lies without question.

A soft sound to her right caught Serena off-guard; she had expected the girls to be equally apologetic and full of self-justification and could have easily repelled their flimsy arguments, but Serena felt her defence start to crumble as Amelia fought hard to keep her crying quiet.

Then she remembered all the time they had spent together in private, all the opportunities they had to slip her a warning about the treachery they all knew about, and Serena hardened her resolve.

"Save your tears, Amelia," she said without turning to address the girl. "You will need every drop to lament over Zoisite's eventual rejection. Do you really think such a powerful, privileged man will continue to waste his time with one who is unworthy of his social standing?"

The silence that followed was a heavy weight on the women; a slap in the face would be more bearable. Then Serena heard them shuffling beside her, and prepared herself for the battle.

"You are not in the position to make such judgements," Lita said slowly. "I believe you owe Amelia an apology."

"I am indeed sorry," Serena replied neutrally, "but those sentiments are directed at the poor, useless men who are foolish enough to hold feelings for a frigid, stoic woman with very little to offer."

Lita's anger was a flame next to Serena's indifference. "That was certainly uncalled for. I demand you apologise!"

"You are not in the position to make such demands, Countess," Serena said, emphasising the last word with mock respect. "You may have been too narcissistic to notice, but that self-important attitude you adopt for Nephrite will have no effect on me. After all, I have more dignity and sense than that dog at your heels."

Lita moved to strike Serena, but someone held her back. The murmuring in Sairellen that followed belonged to Mina, but it was interrupted by the loud sneer that came from Serena.

"Partaking in this game for the past few months has obviously done nothing to satiate your appetite for further intrigue, and having been excluded from the participation, I hope you will allow me to express my precise thoughts on the matter." Then, with deliberate enunciation, Serena uttered an explicit phrase in her native tongue, the sounds harsh and guttural.

"You've misunderstood my intentions, Serena," Mina said uncertainly in the Common Tongue. "Please, don't be offended by what was merely a poor decision…"

"And I suppose your inability to advise me of my situation was also due to a lapse of judgment?" Serena let out a shrill laugh. "Ah yes, and I must not overlook the case of your poor memory, which suffered to the extent where your identity eluded you while in my presence. I daresay you were the most convincing actor of the group, though the highest honours must of course go to Prince Endymion."

"I won't deny that I was wrong," the other girl replied, "but we were given very precise orders, and could do little but obey."

"How convenient of you, to lay blame on another person," Serena commented lightly. "I must admit, I am rather disappointed you could not paint a more vivid illustration of the cacophony of excuses I had expected to hear."

Rachael spoke up before Mina could answer, her voice sultry and smooth. "Mina may have allowed the Prince into your rooms every day, but you are the one who happily spread your legs for him every night."

The anger that burnt through Serena was from knowing the truth behind the other woman's words. But she kept her frustration and shame out of her countenance, hardening her face into cold marble. "Alas, the whore has spoken. You must have much to share about your adventures in the Prince's bed."

"I do have some advice I'm willing to part with," was Rachael's calculated response.

Serena gave another one of her joyless laughs. "I doubt I can gain anything from a common slut, but I hope to be amused by the superficial nature of your 'advice'. Please, indulge me."

"Don't let your hurt consume you," Rachael said with utmost sincerity. "You have found in Darien what many spend their entire lives searching for. Perhaps it occurred in the most inopportune of times, perhaps there are aspects about him, about you, that have not yet been revealed to one another, but such issues should not be a pretext upon which you decide to give up and turn away."

Serena shook her head in disapproval, but Rachael was not finished.

"You may have found out about his heritage, but that does not change who he is! All the things the two of you have shared are real, Serena! I have deceived myself into believing I held feelings for a man that meant nothing to me, and it pains me to see that you are convincing yourself of the exact opposite. Do not abandon what is so elusive, so precious, so sought after by the rest of the world."

"Then you may have the elusive lies and precious cruelty, for I do not believe they are of any more use to me." Serena took a long breath of the crisp morning air, and finally turned. "Now if you will excuse me, I have certain things to attend to."

She had stepped back into the building when Lita's voice reached her, almost lost in the distance.

"We don't want to re-live the lies, Serena, but we do want our friend back."

Serena made no move to show that she had heard.

* * *

She encountered the Shitennou in the corridors, not five minutes after she had left the girls. They were conversing among themselves when they spotted her, and Serena did not deny the satisfaction that flowed through her like liquid honey when she saw the Four Heavenly Kings falter in their steps. She walked past them, nonchalant, and barely paused when she heard Nephrite speak.

"I wanted to tell you," he said, voice full of regrets, "right from the beginning. And if I believed Darien had the slightest intention of treating you unfavourably, I would have told you."

The last admission made her pause. Sensing she was heeding his words, Nephrite continued.

"But you changed him. He cared little for the feelings of others until you gave him a reason to reconsider his behaviour."

She did not wish to trust him, but the questions were endless, questions that called for her immediate attention.

"Why did he approach me in the first place?"

The Generals exchanged glances, and it was clear that the men were reluctant to reveal the secret they had guarded for the past few months. But Nephrite had other ideas, and he was not afraid to break his oath.

"Because he saw a need for you," he answered. "Because he knew the impact you could have on this war."

His simple, implicit words pierced through the cloud that had been enveloping her, and lifted away the last veil that kept her from the truth. Now she saw all too clearly—the images and thoughts were so vivid and raw that she immediately cursed herself for being so oblivious, so blinded by the specifics of the minute picture which she had been consumed by. And the Prince had seen it, had taken advantage of her single-mindedness and preoccupation with revenge, and gently fed her the lies that she was too distracted to question. She had tumbled straight into his trap, and if it were not for Endymion's slight miscalculation, Serena would have behaved in the exact manner he wished, like a beast to its master's bidding.

Nephrite was speaking again. "He took up the name Darien—a name he hadn't used since the death of the Queen—to conceal his identity as the Prince; but little by little, he reverted to the person he was before his mother died and his father spiralled into madness. And then he surprised us all by becoming more of a man than he ever was—and it is all because of you."

"I believe you have spoken quite enough," Serena interrupted. "I wish to hear no more of your lies."

It was Zoisite who spoke up. "You want to know the truth about your situation, and we are happy to oblige. But you cannot choose the particulars of what is said—you are to be presented with a complete canvas, not simply the dark patches that will help fuel your grief and anger."

"Just as you cannot choose the particulars of what I will undoubtedly hold in a higher regard," Serena retorted. "You have never earned the right to influence my judgement."

"Then you will never uncover the specifics of the matter," Zoisite replied calmly.

She heard the treat, and only smiled in response. "Just as you will never recover my co-operation in another, more pressing matter." She offered them a curtsy, but it was in no way a courtesy. "Good day."

"A moment, if you will please." The voice belonged to the leader of the Shitennou, his tone severe. She turned to face him, ready to make a sharp remark when he spoke again. "Do you wish to see the man who is behind all of this?"

"I have seen far more of him than I care for."

Kunzite ignored her double meaning. "Do you wish to hold an audience with His Majesty King Endymion?"

She stilled at his offer, trying to find the words to express her incredulity. Jadeite beat her to it.

"Are you certain? It would be wise not to provoke either of them any further!"

Serena had seen the power wielded by the leader of the Shitennou at the Council, but never had she witnessed its intensity from such a close distance. The man turned to the comrade who was also his inferior, and looked down at Jadeite.

"Are you questioning my authority, Lord Jadeite?" Serena was not without malicious glee when Jadeite lowered his head in deference, jaw tight. Satisfied, Kunzite returned his attention to Serena. "Lady Angelline? What say you?"

However appreciative she was of Kunzite's presence, she was not to be intimidated. "You are foolish to think such an excursion will have an impact on my resolution."

"Indeed, I am not quite so imprudent to make such a presumption," the General replied. "I simply wish to make explicit the reasons behind your extended stay here; what follows as a result of this revelation is far beyond my control."

Serena considered this for a moment longer then slowly said, "I am glad to see that we have an understanding of sorts, Lord Kunzite."

Knowing all too well the tentative nature of their truce, the leader of the Shitennou stepped forward and gestured to the direction from where Serena had come. "This way, my Lady."

She walked past the other Generals, her gaze sweeping past them as if they did not exist. From the corner of her vision she saw Nephrite slump in resignation. Serena kept walking, following Kunzite's lead.

Their journey was short, and neither felt the need to speak. Serena kept her eyes on her surroundings, noting that she was in an unfamiliar part of the palace. The hallways were touched by little natural light, and sconces carved their path. The shadows cast by each contained flame flickered erratically against the steady rhythm of their footsteps. As they neared their destination, Serena saw armoured guards lining against the wall, their swords fastened around their waists. She had no doubt that blades would have been drawn, were it not for the General by her side. Instead, the guards looked forward, their faces blank masks that allowed nothing to escape, even when it became clear that the sole person they were assigned to protect was displeased with his situation.

They stopped at the large double doors with familiar inscriptions and carvings that separated her from the ruler of Sairelle. The muted voice from the other side continued to rise, and Serena could discern the words as of the Common Tongue. She watched and waited as Kunzite lifted his hand and made use of the gold door knocker, sending three definite beats echoing through the corridors. The speaker inside the room paid no heed to the interruption, and continued his tirade. Kunzite gave a small nod to Serena, and then pushed open the doors.

With the thick mahogany no longer separating the two worlds, the words spilled over for all to hear. Before Serena could catch a glimpse of the King of Sairelle, his angry, coarse voice weaved its way into her comprehension.

"I care not for the corrupted 'advice' and so-called 'intelligence' you have received from the weak-willed men you have thoughtlessly assigned to lead your armies—Restille must be reclaimed! Do you hear my words, you pathetic boy? I am giving you a command, you insolent fool! _Restille must be reclaimed!_"

She knew that the man could not be more than forty, but the appearance of the enraged figure sagging under expensive furs led her to believe he was well beyond his age. Across from the King stood Darien, his expression unreadable. A quick glance down told Serena that he had bandaged his right hand, the hand that had gripped the sharp blade she pointed at him.

"Lay siege on the city if you must," the King continued, oblivious of his visitors, "and show no pity for any living being until every last stone has been repossessed. Then you will take every able-bodied man and march into Chiston until our enemies cease to draw breath. You will either return with news of Diamond's surrender, or not at all!"

Darien spoke then, his voice quiet and controlled. "I will not cause the unnecessary deaths of innocent citizens, be they from Sairelle or Chiston."

The defiance caught the King off guard, and he reacted by slapping his son. "You are no son of mine! The Chistonians are not people, they are rats that you should eliminate! Are you blind and deaf to how Diamond's armies make their assault even after calling such a truce?" The King spat with vehemence. "Do you not care for your people? Do you have no honour? By the heavens, you are utterly useless! I made the greatest mistake of my life, for my people, the day I gave you my very name! I should have fed you to the dogs!"

"As you wish, Father."

The King suddenly jerked and started blinking rapidly, as if he was being overwhelmed by another thought. "And while my kingdom falls into ruin, you are busy preoccupying yourself with arranging a marriage for Kunzite, who will become one of our finest warriors. How can you speak of such a subject when your country is at war?"

The knife of betrayal slid deeper. She had trusted Mina, had acted as a confidante when the woman had no one else, and yet Serena still heard about the impending marriage from the mouth of a stranger.

"While you are sending all our men to their deaths, Father," Darien replied in a cool voice, "I must ensure that they will leave behind more than just a legacy. The Baroness is a fine match for Kunzite, and I assure you—"

The King reached for a nearby vase and hurled it to the floor. Darien did not flinch as the shards flew across the room. "I will not tolerate such impudence! There will be no such union! _Am I understood?_"

"Yes, Father."

The submission did little to quell the King. "Neither you nor Kunzite have turned sixteen, and yet you are both filled with such fanciful ideas. I will not allow you to corrupt the boy any further; you may be a hopeless half-wit, but there is a great future for Kunzite, one that is—"

He stopped, having finally noticed Serena and Kunzite's presence. As the King stared at Serena, she saw an irrationality and desperation in his eyes that began to frighten her. "So this is the whore who has sunk her claws into Kunzite? Wipe that artificial shock from your face; I know all too well what goes behind such a pretty face. Oh yes… I see you, I see your intentions all too clearly, and even if Kunzite were of such an age to take a wife, I will die before I allow you to marry him! No flimsy Baroness deserves the leader of the Four Heavenly Kings!"

The lie came easily to her mind, and she had no reservations in uttering it. "I am no Baroness; I simply wait on Lord Kunzite."

The King's surprise was genuine, and it quickly turned into rage, rage that he directed at his son. "How dare you deceive me, Endymion! After all that I have done for you, you still have the audacity to stand before me and spin such lies! No, I forbid this…" He abruptly turned his attention back to Serena, those dark eyes brewing a storm whose power no one could defy. "You were born from a whore and you will die a whore, and you have no place in my palace, you conniving—"

He suddenly stopped and leapt forward, grabbing Serena by the lapel of her coat. She struggled against him, but the King was surprisingly strong and almost lifted her off the ground. With a ferocity and savageness that was not entirely human, the King tore open the coat, ripping the seams and sending the gold buttons clattering against the marble. He forced the garment off her, and with a bloodcurdling cry, King Endymion mercilessly shoved Serena until she was sprawled on the floor.

"How dare you steal the Queen's coat, you whore! I will have you executed for wearing it!" He held the thick material close to him, his knuckles white. "Endymion, go tell your mother I have finally found it. She has been searching for weeks!"

Serena remained on the ground, knowing better than to make any move that would further aggravate the King. A quick flex of her fingers and toes told her nothing was broken, but her back was still throbbing from the impact.

"Endymion," the King barked again, "do not stand there in idleness! Go and fetch your mother!"

Beneath Darien's calculated movements and formal tone was a hint of sadness. "She is dead, Father. She has been dead for thirteen years."

Realisation struck the King, and he stumbled back as the memories of events long passed drifted back into the corners of his mind. He slumped to the ground, heedless of the shattered vase that surrounded him, and buried his face into the purple wool of the Queen's coat. His body shook from sobs, or perhaps from the effort to contain them—Serena was no longer sure. She looked on, helpless, as the once-powerful ruler, whose intelligence and cunning were taught to every child in Chiston, tumbled into the deep chasm that separated illusion and reality as he tried desperately to cling onto both. When he finally stopped rocking himself, the King of Sairelle lifted his gaze to meet the Prince, who had crouched down to his father. The King's eyes cleared for just a moment, and then they were clouded, the dreams and nightmares once again overpowering his sense of what was real.

King Endymion straightened himself, and kicked his son several times. "How many times must I repeat myself? _Restille must be reclaimed!_"

Serena felt guilty as she slowly picked herself from the ground, knowing she only dared to do so because of the diversion Darien served. Ignoring the pain in her own body the best she could, Serena limped to Kunzite, knowing she did not need to speak loudly, for the General had focused his attention on her.

"I believe I have seen enough," she said. Kunzite studied her carefully, and gave a perfunctory nod. He offered an arm, and though she despised it, Serena was grateful for the support. She did not realise how much she was shaking until she had a firm grasp on the General. The two of them made their way to the door, leaving as quietly as they had come.

Behind them, glass began to shatter.

* * *

There were no words to describe the visage of the Prince as he slammed through the doors of the room where Kunzite had taken her. She had expected the Prince to react violently to their unannounced intrusion, but nothing had prepared her for the burning sapphire eyes that bore into her. She had been too unnerved by the King's behaviour to observe his physicality, but now she saw the resemblance between father and son in their shared madness.

"Who gave you permission to enter?" His words were deafening, the sound entrenching itself into the corners of the room. "Who gave you permission to bring _her_ along?"

"I felt it was in my duty, your Highness."

"Your _duty_?" Darien advanced on the General until they were eye to eye, then withdrew again, this time to pace the room. "Your duty is to lead armies, to fight for your country, to obey any command that I give you—displaying the very weakness of your kingdom to this…_woman_ is not a part of those duties!"

"The duty was not to my country, but my conscience."

Darien stopped in his tracks, his eyes aflame. "Get out." It was a menacing snarl that, when not obeyed, turned into a roar. "_Get out!_"

With a quick, but no less precise, bow, Kunzite disappeared from the room.

The two remaining occupants glared at each other, measuring the distance between them. Instinct told Serena to escape from the deadly unleashing of the Prince's rage; pride refused her to yield. As her heartbeat calmed, Serena felt a soothing coolness rise from deep within her, and she gave all reins to the terrible beauty.

"How unfortunate," she said, her voice sliding across the room. "I should have liked to burn that coat myself."

His anger flared, and he took two steps towards her. "Mind what you say about my Mother, or I will cut your throat."

"Your threat renders me speechless with terror," she replied without a hitch. "What must I do to obtain your Royal Pardon? Shall I beg for mercy? Give my word to aid you in your rampage against my own people? Or perhaps it would be more effective if I provide a personal service. Would that be your preference?"

The coldness swept through her, and she rode the waves. Her fingers found the fastenings of her gown and she loosened the ties, letting the garment slip to the floor. She watched the anger recede from his face and turn into surprise, then confusion, as the first petticoat slid down her body. Realisation seeped into him, and his expression was one of pain when the second petticoat pooled around her feet.

"Serena, please…" His voice was laced with regret, but she was beyond caring.

"Yes, your Highness?" Her fingers kept moving; the third petticoat fell.

He turned away when the fourth and last petticoat joined the others, and Serena was left in her chemise. "If I could say or do anything that might change this situation, that might right these wrongs…"

"I believe there is no such solution, your Highness." She lifted the chemise over her head, baring her breasts.

"Serena, please don't do this…"

The pantalettes dropped to the floor, and she stepped out of the pile of clothing, the layers and layers that had done nothing to protect her from the pain that had shot straight to her core. "Thank you for your patience, your Highness."

When he looked up her again, Serena had closed the distance between them and was now well within his reach. She watched as the sorrow in his eyes was overtaken by desire, saw the familiar longing that had warmed her many times before.

Now she could only feel so very, very cold.

Gingerly, he lifted his uninjured hand to her cheek, caressing it lightly with his fingertips. Then, hesitantly, almost as if he was afraid, the Prince kissed her with a love and tenderness she had never before experienced, not even with Darien.

Serena stood, motionless and indifferent, frozen under his fiery touch. The blame, the self-accusation and the resentment that had flowed unchecked since the revelation of their betrayal was beginning to still. His body was firm and hot against her own, but she felt nothing except the bitter taste of finality.

He pulled back from her and allowed her to study him in his vulnerability. But then they both understood that she was not here to attack or defend and was simply standing witness for all the death that resulted from their temporary tryst, and Darien straightened, making the subtle transformation into the Prince.

"Seiya had assembled an army of ten thousand," he said, too softly, "and I have another seventy thousand good men in my service. We will show no mercy to those in our path. Chiston will be mine."

"You may raid our villages, pillage our lands and win the hearts of our people with your malevolent lies, but there is one in Chiston who will never be yours."

"And yet she stands before me, wearing nothing but her mask of apathy."

Her lips curled into a cold smile. "There is no apathy, your Highness. There is nothing."

The Prince clenched his fist, his lips white.

"If my services are no longer required," Serena said again, her voice flat, "then I shall take my leave, your Highness."

She ignored her undergarments and pulled her dress on, securing it to her with deft fingers. Giving him one last curtsy, Serena disappeared from the room, closing the door with a resounding bang.

* * *

After he heard no response to his third set of knocks, Jadeite entered the rooms that once belonged to Rachael. He was expecting the room to be warmer than the corridors, and shuddered when he discovered otherwise. A quick scan told him the fire had long died, and he nearly missed the woman who sat at the table. When his gaze landed on the tray of untouched food that lay beside her, the General took a deep breath before stepping towards the unmoving figure.

"You should eat your supper." Jadeite removed the cold food and replaced it with the fresh tray he had brought with him. He left the room momentarily and returned with a candelabrum, which he also set on the table. Then he moved around the room, fetching the kindle for the fireplace and quickly starting a small fire that gradually began to grow.

When Jadeite turned to look on the woman again, it was clear to him that she cared not for his presence. He bit back the urge to strike her for her inattention, and settled instead with a different kind type of attack.

"Do you remember how your family died?"

Ever so slowly, she lifted her head and fixed those endless cerulean eyes on him.

"The Duke was defiant about his capture," Jadeite continued in a casual tone, "so I had to teach him a lesson, force him to crawl like the rest of them, make him an example so that your fellow townspeople would understand who now ruled them. Do you think I succeeded in that?"

"The only success you have ever had," Serena replied quietly, "is to ensure that your enemies have a thorough understanding of how to bring about your own death."

He smiled at her response. "And do you remember what good such a sharp tongue did to your mother?"

She smiled back, her lips curled just as cruelly. "Endymion has plundered my body countless times before you could even conjure such a thought; your threat only augments your foolishness."

"You're quite mistaken," he said through his smile. "I would have ripped you apart, had he not interrupted the game we were playing. Shall we pick up where we left off?"

Jadeite had leapt on her before she could answer, knocking them both to the ground. But to his surprise, Serena was making no move to defend herself, and lay limply under him. The General removed his hold on her wrists and spat on the floor beside her.

"For a moment, I had thought you were unusually spirited, different," he murmured. "Now it is clear to me that you are just another common whore."

She remained unnerved. "You speak too much for one who prides himself over his conquering of women. One would begin to suspect that Rachael has more experience in bed than you."

He snarled at her, then cursed himself for taking the bait. The General rose to his feet, trying to banish the jealousy that coursed through him as he realised how right the woman had been.

Serena had also stood up, and was eyeing him with a glint of satisfaction. "How much do you _really_ know about her?" she asked. "How many of Lady Rachael's secrets have you managed to uncover?"

"More than you will ever be privy to."

"Then you must be certain that she will never tire of you as she did the Prince. It would surely be a shame if all your energy and efforts prove to be fruitless."

Jadeite refused to allow this woman, this foreigner who knew nothing about his lover, to incite his rage. But even as he denied the possibility, doubt crept through him like a slow poison. Rachael had implied on many occasions that Serena was the one who assisted their relationship at a time when they were both struggling, but it was difficult to believe that the reassuring, caring woman could be so spiteful and malicious. Then he remembered the look of utter hatred on Serena's face the night he had breached Tristone's defences, and Jadeite saw how they had come full circle.

"I tire of this constant bickering," the General said, now eager to execute the plan that had brought him here. "We are both aware that we have no love for one another, and making that point clear is a waste of breath."

"Shall I remind you that I am not the one to have sought company with the other?"

The way in which she enunciated the words suggested he was the one desperate for her attention, and Jadeite once again controlled the desire to lash back at her. As calmly as he could, he said, "I believe you have no further reason to remain here in Sairelle."

She laughed at this, the silvery sound tipped with the sharp edge of a knife. "I never had a reason to be here in the first place, but your most honourable Prince thought otherwise."

"This is not about him anymore."

"But we are in Sairelle," she retorted. "_Everything_ revolves around the King, and seeing he can no longer recall his own age, it is only natural that all responsibility falls to the Prince."

Jadeite shook his head, seeing for the first time the influence this woman had over his lover, his friends, his liege. She was never afraid to speak the truth of what she saw, and she could either use them as a weapon that could cut much more deeply than swords, or a balm that could soothe away the scars left on their souls. Everyone around her was at her mercy, and would always be subjected to her judgement of how she would wield that power. He had caught a glimpse of the Lady who could cure tens of thousands with a simple touch. Now he was facing the one who could crush and destroy a man just as simply. And he finally understood why Nephrite and Kunzite had surrendered and told her the truth.

"This is between you and me." Jadeite paused when she raised an eyebrow in response, then added, "And him."

"How fascinating. I never knew you had such feelings for the Prince."

Jadeite allowed the remark to go unnoticed. "His Highness is not performing his duty, and I suspect you are to blame." He raised his voice when Serena made a move to speak, knowing all too well she would make another disparaging comment. "It is crucial for Sairelle that the Prince takes action, but he is too distracted to make such necessary decisions."

"That is none of my concern."

"Do you want to go home?" His question took her by surprise, and the General waited for Serena to regain her composure. He realised then that he needed to tread carefully, that he had used a word that was perhaps inappropriate. Rephrasing the question, Jadeite asked again, "Do you want to go back to Tristone?"

He knew she noticed the nuance, but her expression had become indifferent again. "You wish to rid me from the palace, from the Prince."

"Yes."

Something passed between them, and Jadeite hardened himself. They both knew she did not need to speak her next words, but they were voiced nonetheless.

"Without his knowledge," Serena said, almost in a whisper.

Jadeite confirmed the answer by leading them away from the topic. "Do you want to go back to Tristone?" he asked again.

But the Lady was not to be deterred. "How will he react, once he is aware of your treachery?"

"I care not," Jadeite replied after a pause, "as long as he reacts at all. I have never seen him so equally enraged and withdrawn."

She thought for a moment, and though it was clear her decision had already been made, she did not desist from her question. "How will he react to your treachery?"

Her eyes remained steady on his, and Jadeite thought he saw her mouth tighten, as if she was silently urging him towards his answer. Not knowing how else to respond, Jadeite said the first thing that came to his mind. "I will be severely punished."

"How severe?" she asked with insidious intent.

And then he saw the game that she played, one that determined her as the winner. Jadeite fought back a smile as he said, "It will be beyond imagination. He will make me suffer in every way possible, be it publically, privately, physically, emotionally. No one, nothing, will be able to stop him; his will is the law."

She nodded, satisfied with his response. "Then I will be happy to return to Tristone, Lord Jadeite."

"We shall leave immediately, for time is our very enemy." Jadeite's gaze swept the one garment that cover her body, and then darted to the plate of untouched food he had brought. "It is a long ride to Tristone, and I will not be able to accompany you for the entire journey. You may wish to stop at an inn, but even so, the weather of the road shows no mercy to its travellers." He paused long enough to see that she comprehended his meaning. "I will wait outside until you are ready. Make haste."

Before he reached the door, Jadeite heard her say softly behind him, "It seems that we understand each other more than I thought was possible." With his back to her, the General allowed a wistful, sad smile to form on his lips. He had finally—and unexpectedly—found common ground with the sole survivor of the family he had slaughtered, but it had come too late.

When Serena emerged from her rooms not long afterwards, suitably dressed for the hard ride that lay ahead of her, Jadeite glanced past her and saw candelabra illuminate the fine porcelain of the large plate, now empty.

* * *

Darien leaned against the cold stone, ten feet away from where they had first kissed. He had eaten very little in the past two days, and slept even less—the support he sought from the sturdy wall was only out of necessity. An eagle was perched on his shoulder, her massive claws digging through his clothing into his flesh. He usually wore a heavy leather guard when he spent time with his winged companions, but now he welcomed the pain as a temporary distraction from a deeper ache that seeped through his bones. The sun was making its last journey of the day, taking with it what little warmth and comfort it had offered. His city stretched out before him, half-hidden in shadow. From where he stood, observing the scene as objectively as he knew how, it was not bewildering to think a small slip, an unexpected mistake, could plunge his people into complete darkness.

The lightest brush of feathers against his cheek was enough for Darien to shift his attention to the large bird at his side. He lifted a hand to the eagle, stopping his fingers just a breath away from her beak. The creature's intelligent eyes darted to him and then back to his hand, the only sign that she knew this test, one that he had given her many times before, one that he will continue trying until the end of their time. And though Darien saw, from the savage hunger in the eagle's eyes, that she wanted nothing more than to lunge at the offered finger with deadly speed and grace, the tamed beast only lowered her magnificent head and gently nudged him with tender affection.

It was moments like these that he fully appreciated the time he spent with his beloved birds, all the sleep he lost while rising before dawn to satiate the needs of a week-old chick and remaining through the night to tend for a broken wing of an angry, proud creature who would only suffer Darien's touch. He was born and raised with the delusion that he owned the lives of the people who dwelled within his lands, that he commanded their minds and their hearts unconditionally. But he gradually came to understand, through the unwavering devotion and subservience of his people, that they owed the Prince everything and the man nothing. When the abundance of power was prematurely handed to him, Darien realised that in order to become the ruler that was feared and respected, he had to lose the man who feared and respected. It was then that he busied himself with one of his hobbies, an interest that became a passion, and found solace in the few living creatures who understood him better than anyone.

Until he met Serena.

Before he could follow that thought any further, his eagle once again demanded his attention. This time, her cry was a clear request to be fed. With a small push against the wall, Darien returned to his feet and retrieved the small cold box where the food was kept. Darien slid his fingers under a slice of raw meat and deftly lifted it, throwing it into the air. He felt the slight pressure on his shoulder as the eagle took flight and caught the meat with ease, and then let out two long, low notes. Swarmed with a dozen or so eagles within seconds, Darien repeated the process until the meat had disappeared and the beasts had been sufficiently fed. As the other birds returned to their perches, the golden eagle who was his most intimate companion nestled herself once more on his shoulder.

Although the feeding had become a familiar routine, it had not always been so easy. A long time ago, before he had come to an agreement with the birds of prey, Darien had been attacked on numerous occasions by the angry predators that challenged their captivity. It took several months, perhaps even years, for the eagles to accept the authority that Darien established. Once the last piece of the puzzle fell in, however, Darien was rewarded with how effortlessly the cycle continued.

He had reached the same goal with Serena, and together, they had settled into a comfortable rhythm that suited them both. But that had been threatened and destroyed at her discovery of his heritage, transforming what they had into something that he had never before encountered. This loss after the conquest was unfamiliar to him. Was it the fear of not knowing the outcome that held him back? And was the thought of losing the extraordinary woman enough to paralyse him from taking any action?

But perhaps, if he had the courage to throw himself blindly into this next decision, then beyond this tumultuous time, he would discover that the reward would be even greater. Perhaps, if they could sort out their differences, if she would heed his apologises—and he was undeniably wrong—then they could find a way to begin again. Perhaps, if there was a way of forsaking revenge and turning the next page of the war, into an epilogue, then they could move forward without any resentment.

The last of the sun's rays was no longer in sight, enshrouding his city in darkness. Lamps would be lit, fires would be stoked. His people had survived the twilight of such days before, and they will again. He would make sure of it.

But first, Darien needed to pay a visit, one that he hoped would not be his last. When he started walking towards the interior of the castle, the eagle at his side understood his intentions and rustled its feathers. Then, with only the slightest of pressure, the bird launched herself into the sky, and circled above him. Darien's lips softened into a smile as he lifted an arm to acknowledge the farewell, and made his way to the part of his private chambers that had been rendered into Serena's suite of rooms.

He knocked only out of courtesy, but did not expect an answer. Darien slowly opened the door, not quite ready to verbally announce his presence, perhaps in an attempt to delay their confrontation for even the smallest of moments. The room was aglow with warmth, but Darien soon noticed that Serena was not alone. Instead, all but one of his Shitennou had also occupied the reception room.

And she was nowhere in sight.

The Shitennou had focused their attention on their Prince when he first entered, but now they looked away from his searching gaze. After the episode that happened between Kunzite and him earlier, Darien could appreciate the reason behind Kunzite's hesitancy. But for Zoisite and Nephrite to act in a similar fashion… Something must have been amiss. Darien took a few steps forward, willing his men to speak to him, and felt his blood boil when none came.

"Lord Kunzite," he said, addressing the leader directly, "where is the Lady?"

When the General bowed in response to being formally addressed, Darien bit back a snarl. He had always respected the protocol that dictated all their behaviour, but this was the first time Darien was frustrated by what was essentially biding for time.

"Your Highness, I am afraid that I cannot procure the specific answer to your question."

The Prince stepped forward again, this time casting a shadow over his men. "Do not trifle with me, Lord Kunzite. Where is she?"

Again the bow, again the precious moments of time slipping through his fingers. "I do not know, your Highness."

"The palace may be large," Darien replied in a low voice, "but she could not have strayed far. A thorough search may yield the answer."

Kunzite, the revered leader of the Shitennou, did not speak.

The Prince clenched his fists, wanting nothing more than to hear the sound of snapping bones. "Your silence, although a fine addition to this merry atmosphere, is of no assistance or value to me." His attention quickly turned to Nephrite, who visibly flinched. "Lord Nephrite, perhaps you might wish to share your thoughts."

Darien had known Nephrite since they were both boys, had played and fought through the years that transformed them into great men. Now, as he looked at the fear and concern written clearly on the General's face, the Prince knew that few things could break through such a great man's barriers.

And he knew he did not need to hear what Nephrite had to say.

"We have searched everywhere, your Highness, but she is nowhere to be found."

The reality dawned on him, but still he refused to accept it. He spoke now not because he wanted to condemn, but because he held desperate hope that a slight lapse in events would render the situation into something different.

"Lord Jadeite is not present; perhaps his search may lead to a more favourable result."

Nephrite cleared his throat. From the harsh sound, Darien knew it was done out of necessity. "Lord Jadeite has been missing. He was last seen making haste from the city, carrying with him the Royal Standard."

"Did he travel alone?"

All the unspoken dreams, all the heartfelt desires that he harboured turned into ash, bitter on his tongue. He heard the words before they were said, saw the movement of Nephrite's lips before the General took a breath.

"He had a companion."

The betrayal hurt, but the rage was far, far worse.

But whatever question he had to ask left him when he heard the door open quietly behind him, and the steady footsteps that was contempt itself. Darien did not move, and simply waited for the last of the Shitennou to join his comrades. When the dirty, sweaty General finally came into view, the Prince found the target of his rage.

"Lord Jadeite," he said, thunder in his voice, "how kind of you to join us. I take it you had an eventful journey?"

The General did not answer immediately, but Darien could see the man consider his options. And the Prince saw that Jadeite was as tired of the game as he was.

"She is heading for Tristone as we speak," Jadeite said calmly. "I have informed her that Diamond and his armies are situated in the Fields of Atheria, five leagues east of the city."

Long had he known that Diamond had gathered his full force and was waiting for his opportunity to strike Tristone and reclaim what once belonged to Chiston. Once it was overrun, Diamond would continue advancing until he breached Sairelle, and would not stop until the kingdom belonged to him.

"I am under no illusion as to the consequences of my actions," Jadeite said. "I understand the conditions of my punishment, and I will not resist them."

"However much pleasure I would derive from skinning you alive," the Prince snarled, "nothing will undo what you have set into motion."

But even with the rage, the Prince saw that particular path clearing itself, waiting for him to take the first step. All his soldiers were ready at his call, fresh and eager for blood. They could afford to march for a few days as he attended to the last rationalisation, the last negotiation before he, too, released the hold on his control and unleashed every last drop of his rage unto his enemies.

Jadeite had done what Darien could not. But the General had overlooked a small detail.

"We will send our forces to Tristone," the Prince declared. "However, our objective for this trip is not to declare war, but to make peace. You are not permitted to draw your sword, Lord Jadeite, even if you are faced with death. That will be your punishment."

The General's neutral mask instantly slid from his face, but they both knew he could not defy his Prince. Having no other choice, Jadeite abided to protocol and bowed deeply before Darien.

"Assemble your armies," Darien spoke again, this time addressing all of the Shitennou, "and put your Commanders in charge. You will all ride with me."

The men stiffened, but raised no objections. Kunzite resumed his position, and said, "We shall be ready within the hour, your Highness."

Darien nodded. Somewhere in the cold, bitter night, Serena was alone, riding through the snow-covered lands. Every heartbeat led her away from him, and Darien could not afford to lose any more time before she slipped completely out of his reach.

"How far is it to the Fields of Atheria?" the Prince asked.

The leader of the Shitennou bowed to his liege. "Two days, as the eagle flies."

* * *

_Thanks for reading, and please review! :)_


	21. Chapter 20

**As the Eagle Flies**

So we have finally arrived at the end of this story. I am filled with gratitude for so many people, in particular Wendy, my beautiful younger sister, and Alan, my good friend and editor (who has not seen an episode of Sailormoon and has still managed to get through this story).

And of course, I am so greatly thankful for all the readers who have taken the time to share their thoughts with me, and provide me with suggestions, criticism, and the occasional off-hand remark. Never have I dreamed of receiving more than one hundred reviews for a story, and here I am today, with the encouragement of all you wonderful people. Thank you for accompanying me on this journey so far, and I hope that you will stay with me until the end, no matter what you might encounter.

Finally, I have expressed quite a few sentiments about the entire process of writing this story and my thoughts on the ending, which you can find on my Livejournal, at mesmerising dot livejournal dot com. If you still have any questions after reading my long rant, then please feel free to ask, and I will endeavour to answer them to the best of my ability. Also, if you're kind enough to leave a review, please either sign in or leave your email address so I can thank you properly!

Again, thank you all so much for reading. This is for you.

* * *

Chapter 20

It was sheer will that kept her atop the equally weary horse. Serena held the reins in one hand; she fumbled with the straps on her back with the other. Her fingers worked slowly, as if they were separated from the rest of her body, but she persisted. Slowing her mount from the uneven canter would cause her to lose her balance and her already precarious seat; continuing to advance at her rate would bring her within the range of the archers who had undoubtedly fixed their attention on her lone figure. She could afford neither. Her life now depended on her numb hand to untie the wooden shaft from her back and grasp heavy pole that bore the Royal Standard of Sairelle.

It occurred to her that although the tower guards would have a clear vantage, they would not be able to see the golden eagle against the black silk that had been rolled tightly and fastened to her back. Jadeite's warning to her, his parting gift, returned to her. Tristone was to give no concessions, and from her distance, they would not be able to determine she was of their blood.

The gray walls loomed before her. She could make out all three watch towers, the namesake of her city. Along the wall stood two dozen men, their bows drawn back, arrows aimed at her. She knew the wooden tips were not as sharp as they were poisonous—even the smallest graze would ensure that the deathly substance would travel through her bloodstream, stopping her heart. It would only be a matter of time.

But she would not be defeated, not when she was so close. The barest sensation told her her fingers had wrapped around the wooden pole, and with a half-anguished cry, she loosened it. Her grip was weaker than she expected, but though the standard shook, precariously close to slipping out of her grasp, the flag unfurled in the wind, flowing behind her in waves of gold and black. Armed with safe passage, Serena cantered towards home, every muscle in her body tight from the effort to complete the final journey.

She was greeted with a handful of armoured men at the gates. Recognising the attire as that of Sairelle's, Serena drew in a breath and straightened as much as she could in her seat.

"I wish to enter the city of Tristone." Her voice was coarse, but it rang out just the same.

"The city is in a lockdown," a man who appeared to be the Captain said. "No one is to enter the grounds."

"Do you wish to defy the command of His Royal Highness Prince Endymion?" The threat slipped smoothly off her tongue, and she was pleased to see the man grimace. "I do not tread lightly on this soil; the Golden Eagle of Sairelle does not fly without purpose."

The man considered this, but before he could announce his decision, a familiar voice commanded their attention.

"Where is the visitor who bears the Sairellen Royal Standard?"

The newcomer, a man in his prime whose long, white hair was simply a result of spending too much time thinking, stopped when he saw her. She held his gaze, and was starting to feel uncomfortable when he covered the remaining distance between them in a run, and dropped to his knees before her.

"Lady Angelline," he fumbled in their native Chistonian, "this is…we did not…I am quite…Welcome back, my Lady."

Serena thought she would have been glad to be reunited with one of her father's previous advisors, but she only felt a dull ache in her chest. Adopting a neutral tone, she said, "Thank you, Arthur. Please rise." He obeyed, and she studied him for a moment, noting there was a slight shift in his countenance that she did not understand. "How are Lunaria and Diana faring?

"My wife and daughter have never been better," Arthur answered quickly. He extended a hand to Serena, who complied by giving him the standard. "Would you like to be helped from your horse, my Lady?"

She nodded, and almost jumped when Arthur turned around and barked orders to the guards. "Are you curs all deaf and blind? The Lady requires your assistance. Get moving!" He looked at her again, a smile back on his face. "My Lady, I hope you will forgive the insolence of these men. I assure you that you will not be attended by incompetent servants."

It took Serena all her effort to return the smile. She had known Arthur ever since she was a small girl, and he had always treated her kindly when they ate together at one of her father's gatherings. She had known, to some extent, that the calm, pleasant exterior of the man covered a ruthless leader, but this was the first time she had experienced it firsthand. Now she could not help but feel angry at him, at herself.

"On second thoughts," Serena declared, "I believe I can manage such a simple task without probing hands and poor grips." Her feet already free from the stirrups, Serena lifted her right leg back over the horse, and slid to the ground. Her legs buckled immediately as they hit the floor, and her vision blurred.

The last thing she heard before she collapsed was the jarring tones of Arthur's voice calling for a physician.

* * *

The scent of frangipani from the sheets seemed foreign. Her joints were sore, but she was warm under the heavy blankets that were tucked in around her. Serena opened her eyes and struggled to sit up. It took a few moments for her vision to clear.

She was in a spacious room, draped with heavy silks, lit by the silver sconces that spread evenly along the walls. Beyond the curtains she saw that night had fallen. To her left sat a man she knew well; beyond him stood half a dozen maids, waiting for instructions. She knew this room, had spent almost all her life in this room.

"The Lady is awake," the man said quietly in the Common Tongue. At his words, the servants stepped forward, offering him the trays that were laden with instruments and dressings.

Her throat was parched, but she managed to rasp, "Andrew?"

He laid a firm hand on her arm, and coaxed her back down. "You are in no condition to speak, my Lady." He retrieved a bowl from a tray, and offered the straw to her. "Drink this, my Lady. It will help you regain your strength."

She obeyed, sipping and swallowing the bitter concoction. When she was finished, Serena sat up again, her gaze hard on Andrew. This time, he did not speak, and instead turned his attention to the jars lined on another tray. He selected one, and gestured for the servants to pull back her blankets.

"Your body is covered with numerous bruises," he said, "and most of the skin on your legs is covered with welts." She noticed for the first time that her thighs were wrapped in bandages, which Andrew was now removing. "I will clean your wounds again, and apply new dressing. How are you feeling otherwise?"

She had been in far worse conditions. Her body ached, but the pain was caused by riding hard for two days, not from being kicked and beaten by ruthless men. Observing Andrew's concern, she wondered how he would react, had he known about what Jadeite and his men had done to her.

"I am quite well," she answered, trying not to wince as the physician gently rubbed the ointment onto her irritated skin. Andrew was not convinced.

"Do you feel any particular discomfort elsewhere?" he persisted. "I have given you a physical examination while you were unconscious, but I am uncertain whether you have sustained internal injuries."

Serena understood and appreciated the concern, but brushed it off just the same. "I have no such complaints, Andrew. I can assure you that, apart from these skin deep wounds and a few stiff muscles, I am as well as I can be."

She felt guilty at having used a commanding tone with him, knowing that his low status did not allow him to contest her words. Of the many years Andrew served the Angellines, Serena had held nothing but respect for the man. He had been as easygoing and informal with her as before Tristone was attacked, but it was her attitude that differed. She was the one who had changed.

"I apologise for my impudence, my Lady." She could hear the hurt in Andrew's voice, but knew her actions could not be retracted. "I will not trespass in your presence longer than necessary."

Serena's sigh was audible, and Andrew paused in his work to direct a questioning look at her. "You know I don't like feeling bedridden, Andrew," she explained, "like the time I fell off my horse when I was little and broke my arm. Or the time I was convinced I could cheat the law of gravity by building myself wings and leapt off a table."

She saw the slightest twitch on Andrew's lips before he hid it by shifting his face as he continued to apply the ointment. "I believe I know the incident you're referring to," he replied. "Mistress was extremely displeased because young Master Samuel was impressed with your display and wished to re-enact it himself."

"So not only did I have to stay in bed for the broken bones to heal, I was further punished by Mother, who thought she could set an example of such misbehaviour for Samuel, even though he got the idea by the end of the first week. She always worried too much."

Andrew replaced the lid to the jar and started working on the bandaging. "Mistress loved you all, very much."

She understood that better than anyone, and the way her mother died ensured Serena would never forget the pure devotion of such love.

The room had fallen quiet, and Serena knew that memories of the attack were resurfacing in everyone's minds. The smell, the sounds, the taste of blood returned to her, and Serena saw not her clean, refurnished room as it was now, but the chaotic mess it was when the soldiers broke down the doors and seized her. She did not know that she had begun to shake, but Andrew's gentle grip on her wrist brought her back to the present.

"You have suffered through a lot, my Lady, but we are all grateful that you are still with us today."

Before she could question Andrew about how he had survived the attack, a voice outside the doors announced the arrival of Arthur. Andrew hastily placed down the bandage he was working on and rose to his feet. A quick, muffled exchange outside told them the man would soon be in their company, and all the other servants straightened too.

"Lady Angelline," Arthur said at the door, "although I understand that you are in no state to receive any visitors, I must speak with you at once."

Serena drew the covers to her bosom, and called out, "Please, enter."

The door opened and Arthur stepped inside, followed by a handful of guards. He took one look at the scene before him, and made his way to Andrew, slapping the physician before he paid heed to Serena.

"How long has she been awake?" Arthur's words were in the Chistonian language, a harsh sound that grated against her ears.

"It has not been long," Andrew replied. He was hit again, and this time was sent to the floor.

"I have been appointed to lead you infidels by a General of Sairelle himself," he said. "Take care to address me formally, you dog."

It hurt Serena to see Andrew touch his head to the floor. "I am not worthy of your presence, Lord Arthur."

Still unsatisfied, Arthur kicked the physician once, and was about to repeat his offence when he stopped himself and offered Serena a bow, a smile once again adorning his face.

"Such violence should not be carried out in front of a Lady," Arthur said in a way of apology, "but please be assured that this piece of filth will be punished accordingly."

The practice of beating and torturing servants into submission was not an uncommon one in Chiston, but her family had always looked upon it with distaste. Perhaps a few occurrences took place in her household away from Serena's eyes and ears, but never had anyone been treated so heartlessly in her own room.

"And what exactly was his crime, _Lord_ Arthur?"

The man was taken aback by her candid question, and offered another bow. "He withheld information about your state of consciousness," he replied, "and addressed me inappropriately, my Lady."

Serena remembered marvelling over Arthur's strength and grace, and the politeness and reverence he had shown to her and her father, but she was no longer a naïve girl-woman. "I ordered him to attend to my wounds before calling my condition to your attention, as I believed my health was of the utmost priority. Do you think otherwise, Lord Arthur? Do I deserve a lashing too, to have defied your wishes?"

"Absolutely not, my Lady," he stammered, evidently surprised at the adversity he found in Serena. "I would not dare think of laying even a finger on Lady Angelline."

"And I was unaware of your elevated status," she continued, nowhere finished. "Which fool of a Shitennou decided that you were the most suitable person to lead Tristone?"

"My Lady, with all due respect, I believe that talk of such political nature should remain in the domain of men."

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "And yet I have been bestowed with Sairelle's Royal Standard at a most crucial time in this war to relay commands to Tristone. Am I to be unsexed?"

Arthur hesitated, and it was long enough for Serena to establish her authority. "I did not intend to imply—"

"Perhaps I should strip you of your standing for your insolence."

Arthur searched for the words. "I am afraid you are not in the position to make such a decision, my Lady."

Her steel gaze was fixed on him. "You served under the command of my father," Serena said softly, "and I have succeeded him. You are of no position to assume that I am without power."

"I did serve His Grace once," Arthur said, "but he met his downfall against a stronger force. It is with that same power that I was given the right to rule Tristone, and it is irrefutable, even by you."

"And what of your lineage, Lord Arthur? Does this temporary—for I am sure not even the dullest of the Shitennou would have you as a permanent leader—appointment miraculously provide you with a superior ancestry that marks your ability to suit such a role?"

It was clear that Arthur wished to retort, but they both knew Serena had touched upon the foundation of their culture, the heritage that shaped their lives. The man could only bow deeply, and say, "It does not, my Lady."

"Then you will do well to remember that I am of the Angelline bloodline, and that you are answerable to me."

"My Lady, even my power here—before you graced us with our presence—was very limited. Tristone belongs to Sairelle now, and I only carry out the wishes of the foreign Lords that oversee our city."

"And when these Lords were too tired from beating Chistonian servants, you were assigned the task of seeing to their punishment?"

He had no answer.

"I see," Serena said. "I am honestly disappointed with our reunion, Arthur, though I know that the blame cannot be attributed to you alone. Perhaps our disagreement would not take place, were the circumstances of our upbringing different. But I now tire of this conversation, of your presence, and I bid you remove yourself from my room."

He took the order and dismissal without complaint, and muttered, "As you wish, Lady Angelline." Serena saw the scathing look he cast at Andrew before making his way towards the door, but did not broach the subject. Only when Arthur and his guards had left the room did anybody move again.

With a small nod to Serena, Andrew picked himself from the floor and resumed his work. As he finished applying the dressings, Serena observed his silent concentration, his avoidance of her gaze. She could not gauge what Andrew's reaction to her behaviour was, and for some reason, this unknowing nagged at her.

She waited until he had finished before speaking. "Pray, share your thoughts."

The physician ducked his head. "I am afraid that my thoughts differ greatly from that which we usually explore, my Lady, and they may be considered inappropriate."

The deliberate distancing hurt. She had learned that nobody could be trusted, that people were fickle and could easily change their opinions and loyalties, and the lesson was now taking her to a crucial point. Her only fear now was that she had not changed for the better.

"Do not be so quick to judge," she said. "And if you have made the mistake of making such hasty conclusions, then the least you can do is inform me of your standing."

"You have changed dramatically since I was last in your company," Andrew answered after some deliberation. "I am not sure what to make of it."

"The only constant we have in life is change," was Serena's reply. "I do not deny that my perspective has been broadened. But this is not the crux of the matter here, is it?"

Andrew shook his head slowly. "After Tristone was overrun and the late Lord Angelline was executed with his Lady, we held little hope for your return. We grieved for their deaths and for your capture, and if fate had not intervened, we would still be clinging onto our anger and sorrow."

Serena had some idea of what Andrew referred to, but she waited for him to continue.

"It was Seiya who spoke up to the Sairellens, on behalf of our people," Andrew said. "While Arthur and the other men who once served your father cowered out of sight, your blacksmith friend made a bargain with one of the Generals. If you would not come to any harm, and if the Sairellens will honour and respect the thoughts of our public, then Sairelle will receive our assistance. That was what was decided by us, without the influence of any dignitaries, and that was what we set out to do. Prince Endymion has been very generous with his assistance, and kept to his word by sending us all the resources we could ask for. Of course, he always implemented some of his men to rule over us, but those nobles are content to watch us from a distance and listen to what we have to say. We all thought these last few months would be a nightmare, having to obey the commands of a foreign ruler we hold no love for, but instead, we found something beyond our expectations: hope."

"And yet you are still unsettled," Serena said quietly. "Despite your preference of these changes over what once was of this city, something still troubles you."

The physician took Serena's hand, an intimacy he had bestowed on her since she was little. But this time, the older man was taking as much comfort as he was giving it.

"You left us as a girl, full of emotions and dreams that you allowed to flow freely and inspire everything you touched. You return to us as a woman who has learned to leash her thoughts and use them to do her bidding. I can only imagine the cruel truths you unveiled during your stay in Sairelle, truths that are haunting you even now."

Serena heard and dismissed his concern. "No matter how much we might wish to dwell in the past, there comes a point in time when we must all embrace our present and move forward."

"I can see the hesitation and doubt in your eyes, Lady Serena," Andrew replied. "You are trying so hard to distance yourself from your world, and it pains me to know that you are surely, albeit silently, suffering. You must know where your limits are."

"When it comes to ensuring the happiness of my country, of my people, then the sky is the limit."

Before Andrew could speak again, Serena held up a hand for silence. She had always disliked using her status to manipulate the actions of those around her, but it could not be helped. An extra moment spent with Andrew would push her closer to the verge of sharing more with Andrew; such a divulgence would not only be of no assistance to either of them, but had the potential to lead her astray. She quietly told the physician that she would like something to eat, and that she preferred to dine alone. The servants remained behind, but they were full of apprehension, and Serena knew there would be no more conversation for the night. She would rest now and gather her strength. Tomorrow, she would seek Diamond and play her final part in this twisted, elaborate game.

* * *

The five men rode on through the night, only pausing for a few precious minutes when they passed an inn to give their horses a drink and to quench their own thirsts. Their beasts were quickly rubbed down, drying them of their sweat, and their saddle and shoes checked. Then the men mounted them again and wasted no time in kicking them into motion.

The white grounds stretched before them, and if they took the time to look, they would have seen the moon shine on the thin layer of snow covering the deep imprints, telling them that another horse and its rider had travelled in a similar fashion only recently. But their minds were cleared of all thought save for the devilish determination to reach a single destination.

The Four Heavenly Kings and their ruler rode on.

* * *

King Diamond of Chiston did not need his page to announce his visitor to know of their identity. Word had reached his ears that a lone, cloaked rider spent two nights covering the grounds between Sairelle and Tristone, and the King had seen too many autumns not to recognise when hard work yielded to a successful harvest. But the page, the lanky little boy, had entered the large tent where he resided, and stammered that a Lady Angelline required his attention.

He liked the term 'required'; in fact, it was he who had insisted upon it being included into the protocols that dictated the behaviour of his subjects. Being 'required' meant that he was needed, that the King of Chiston held the power to every last grass in the kingdom. He doubted a day would ever come when his wisdom and authority were no longer needed.

The King smiled as he stepped into the next tent and saw its occupant. He reached out a hand and waited, smiling when the woman took and kissed it.

"Lady Serenity," Diamond said, taking his seat, "We see that you have no escort. Is it proper for a Lady of your status to be roaming, unchaperoned, in an area where many soldiers are eager for a conquest?"

"Your Majesty," she said with a curtsy. That was another particular protocol that he had defined: being addressed by the King was always to be taken as a compliment, no matter what the precise details were.

"Alas, hard times are upon us if our decorum is sacrificed for the sake of progress." The King waved a hand casually; a glass of wine was immediately brought to him. "Your father, were he still alive, would greatly disapprove of such forthright behaviour."

She remained silent; Diamond smiled as took a long drink of his wine, letting the taste spread and settle in his mouth.

"We see you have managed to both escape your captors and keep in good condition," the King continued. "We are very glad to know that after those lands become ours, we would not have to worry about replenishing their coffers. And you, our betrothed, are certainly very clever, to have escaped not only from Sairelle, but also from Tristone. Although there are some who regard the two as one; what are your thoughts?"

He did not like that she did not curtsy before she spoke, and her words did not help. "My home city was taken by Sairelle, and has been populated with their people and supplies. It would be foolish to still think of Tristone as belonging to Chiston, Your Majesty."

"Then you must hold the same sentiments towards Restille."

"I applaud you for your perception." Her voice irritated him. He visibly showed his displeasure, but it did not stop the woman from continuing. "I do wonder how much of our people's taxes you spent on bribing those in Sairelle to aid your cause."

"No more than Endymion has bribed those in Tristone," the King replied, perhaps too quickly. He sank back into his chair, and resumed his relaxed tone. "We have heard that this foreign Prince managed to somehow gather an army of Chistonians to rebel against their own King. Is that not ludicrous? The traitors shall all be hanged once they are caught. Along with the Prince, of course."

He studied her closely to see her reaction, and was only met with indifference. The look puzzled him momentarily, until he realised the implications, and asked, "And what are your thoughts on Prince Endymion?"

"A man deserves that which he inflicts upon himself," she said, almost too quietly. He knew Serenity Angelline to be a passionate, headstrong woman, one who would not stand so passively when she spoke about the enemy of her country.

Which meant this young lady was now another bargaining chip.

The knowledge thrilled him. "Indeed you are right. One should not go unpunished after they pillage and burn entire cities, and plunder the sweetest fruit of our kingdom."

"Perhaps you are confused in your recollection," she said mildly, "for though you have had enough women to fill the purses of every brothel in the lands, I do not believe that you have tasted a particular delicacy."

The enclosed space was suddenly hot; Diamond attributed it not to this glass of wine, but to the several others he had taken thus far in the day. The woman he had last night was nowhere near satisfactory, and the one who stood before him now was beautiful and within three strides. But it irked him to know that she, the one who had been in his possession first, had already been taken by Endymion. Even if Diamond had only intended to break and ride her enough for an heir to be produced, he wanted her to be untouched.

Before the King of Chiston could follow his thoughts any further, the woman spoke again, startling him. "You and I both know that the last thing I want is your affection."

"And yet you are still standing here."

She did not hesitate any longer to make her opinions known. "Stop this war, Diamond."

The words were so unexpected, so preposterous, that the King leapt to his feet. "If you utter such a thing again, we will see that you—"

"Hurt me, kill me, and you will no longer have the support of your populace." Her voice was calm, but he could see the storm that raged in her eyes. "Stop this war, Diamond. Stop it now."

It took him several moments to wipe the incredulity from his face, but he knew she would remember every last of those heartbeats. The King walked up to the woman, towering over her. "What makes you think we will even consider such impudence?"

"Because it is your only way of ensuring that I will do your bidding," she answered smoothly. "If you do as I ask, I will submit to you and your marriage, and unite the people in our kingdom so that they are once more obedient to you."

Compared to the woman who had evidently spent so many hours deliberating making such a move, Diamond was unarmoured in this battlefield. But he was not a novice, and knew he would not accept any conditions unless he had no other choice. Now was not such a time.

"The people you are so popular with, the filthy, uneducated peasants have no value to me. Why should we care about unity? It is best that they remain divided and leaderless; they follow orders best when they are scattered."

"They are uniting at this very moment," was the indignant lady's reply. "The only question is whether they are uniting against or for you."

He acknowledged the truth behind her words, but Diamond could not let that show. "Your theories, however amusing, serve no purpose in the real world. Perhaps our men can show you to a tent where you may lie down and accommodate, as women do best."

"Tristone is gathering an army against you," she said, as if she had not heard his taunts. "It comprises largely of Chistonian, soldiers and peasants alike. Imagine what your own army will think when they are forced to face their own kin in battle."

"They will think of those savages as traitorous cowards who are not strong enough to stand beside their own King. Our people have no reason to reconsider their loyalties."

She smiled at these words, a slight curling of her lips that mocked him. "No reasons indeed, Your Majesty. I see then that my time here is wasted, if you are so certain of your victory. But as I am not as courageous as the rest of your subjects, I believe I shall now take my leave and return to Sairelle."

"You will succeed in taking but two steps towards your goal before you find it obstructed."

She swept her eyes across his body in one swift movement. "Your Majesty's girth has increased significantly in the past few months," she said, this time with a curtsy. "I am afraid it will have quite an impact on your agility."

Diamond had heard many things in his life, but never had he been spoken to with such obstinacy. He clenched his fist, his voice rising to a shout. "Watch your words, woman, or we will have you whipped."

"I am trembling with fear."

The King was not amused. "Do not trifle with us. Your status and your life are in our very hands, and removing them is much simpler than you could imagine."

"Then I am sure you will benefit more by immediately issuing such an order and saving us both our time and breath."

He poured his rage into a single word. "Guards!" At the command, the two soldiers waiting outside the tent entered and seized the woman by her arms. But instead of protesting, Lady Angelline stood passively, her eyes fixed on his.

Diamond would not be unnerved by a woman. "Now would be the time to reconsider your loyalties, Lady Angelline."

"Now would be the time for you to reconsider your options," she said without missing a beat.

"And why would that be?"

"From the moment my heart stops beating, you will find that your own people will become your greatest enemy."

He did not wish to believe her, but her eyes were devoid of lies. "Then we suppose we must make you an example not through a quick death, but slow torture."

"Your aim may be able to instil fear in those not strong enough to openly oppose you, but know that they would quickly entrust themselves to a stronger ally should the opportunity present itself." When he did not respond, she continued. "You know my value, Diamond. I am worth far more to you alive and well than locked in a dungeon, or bleeding on a wooden platform."

The King studied her for a few moments, and then looked at the two men. He gave them an almost imperceptible nod, and they released her, bowing deeply. Only when they had left the tent did Diamond speak again. "You want us to call off the war against Sairelle that has been going on for the last year."

"And you want me to prevent the war within Chiston that has been brewing for even longer." She did not wait for his conformation. "It seems that we can either remain in this impasse or reach a compromise. The decision is yours."

He gave the pretence of considering her words for longer than necessary, but there was no doubt as to what Diamond would choose. He had worked hard enough to obtain the woman's hand in marriage, and it was almost a blessing to know that the spitfire would acquiesce henceforth. It was a heavy price to pay, but the King could not afford to lose his future Queen.

To an outsider it would seem that he and Endymion were on the same ground, having each wrestled a city from the other. But Diamond knew that there was more at play, that the worst blow the Prince of Sairelle could suffer was not one dealt by steel.

Because even if negotiations were made, lands were returned and treaties signed, the cerulean-eyed prize of the war would still belong to Diamond.

* * *

Darien and his four companions arrived at the gates of Tristone just as the sun resumed the daily ascension to its throne in the sky. The Prince wasted no time in gathering the information from the men who surrounded them. Serena had passed through the same gates only a day earlier, but had left again just hours before. He held up a hand to silence the men as they apologised over not knowing the exact nature of her departure. A quick glance at the Shitennou told him they had reached the same conclusion: Serena was already in the clutches of Diamond.

Darien was about to mount his horse again when Kunzite stopped him, and said in a low voice, "Our constitution may be superior to other men, but we need to eat and rest before we continue. To confront Diamond in this condition is folly."

The Prince heeded the advice, but it was clear that he would not be delayed for long. Orders for food to be prepared were relayed without most of its usual dignity, and the five men paid little attention to their environment. After a short discussion during their quick meal, the men parted to carry out their individual tasks. The Prince and heir of Sairelle would hold an audience with the King of Chiston, but he would not be alone. The army of ten thousand assembled by Seiya and gathered in Tristone would march on their own soil alongside five thousand Sairellen soldiers and this foreign Prince to meet those situated in the Fields of Atheria.

Within the hour, the men of the city were preparing themselves for battle. In the privacy of a lavishly decorated room, a Chistonian squire helped Darien into his armour. The chain mail went over his shirt, and though the metal wrapping around his torso was an added weight to his burden, it gave him just enough freedom to move. Next came the boots and the belt, both made of the highest quality and a snug fit. He adjusted his gauntlets that covered the length of his forearms, and then gestured for the squire to bring his sword, which he secured to the thick leather of his belt.

He was pleased to see that the exhausted horse he had taken from his stable in Sairelle was replaced with a powerful steed, fresh as the snow under his feet, black as the night. He was shortly joined by the Shitennou, and after exchanging a few short words, Darien mounted. With his four comrades beside him and a devoted army behind him, the Prince rode east, chasing the sun that continued to elude him.

The ground beneath him felt softer than back in Sairelle, and the horses did not make as much noise. Once winter melted into spring, the earth would be rich for planting. Darien wondered if he would be able to watch the people of Tristone work their fields when the time came. In the distance, he could see several mountains, covered in white. The few peaks in Sairelle down south lost their snow caps soon after the turn of the seasons was celebrated, but it seemed that the top of these mountains never saw anything else.

Darien tensed the moment they stepped into the Fields of Atheria. The smoke rising from the camps spoiled the otherwise picturesque surrounding, and the air had a sour taste to it. He gave a series of quick tugs to his reins, bringing his horse to a slower canter but not quite entering a trot. The Shitennou did the same, keeping their senses alert as they entered their enemy's territory.

A lone, mounted figure was emerging from the camp towards them, and they could soon see that he bore the Royal Chistonian Standard along with a white flag. Jadeite, who was the ensign of their party, acknowledged the call for truce by sending up their own white flag.

They stopped a few feet away from the messenger, who instantly began to speak in the Common Tongue, his accent heavy.

"His Royal Majesty King Diamond extends his welcome to Your Highness Prince Endymion and all those travelling with him."

"We appreciate being received in this manner," the Prince replied. "I have several matters to discuss with His Majesty, and I hope my company and I may continue to trespass on His Majesty's kindness."

"His Royal Majesty sends his apologies, for he is unable to hold a private audience with Your Highness. However, he would be more than happy to hold a conversation in public, if Your Highness is still inclined."

Darien kept his face neutral, but he did not understand why Diamond would opt for a confrontation that would be seen and heard by all their men. Although such a performance would ensure that the King of Chiston will have no choice but to hold to whatever conclusion they make, Darien had the uneasy feeling that he was stepping into the same trap. Any promises he made as the Prince of Sairelle would have to be kept, if his own word were to be trusted.

He had come so far, had taken so many steps of this long journey that turning back would not be an option. And somewhere within the tents stretched out before him, was Serena.

The Prince nodded. "We are very grateful for such consideration by His Majesty."

No more words were needed. The messenger turned his mount and headed towards the camp. Darien and his men followed him, careful to keep their horses at the dignified trot of the slow procession.

It was not long before they were met with the sight of Diamond's army, all fifty thousand men dressed for battle. A few paces before them was the King himself, astride a large, armoured horse. He was flanked by a few hundred cavalry, but it was not the knights or their steeds that caught Darien's attention. All the Prince could see was the lady to the left of the King, her back straight, head held high.

Darien's company stopped when they were in hearing range of their enemy, and they waited as the messenger rejoined the King of Chiston. An eerie quietness stretched between them, as if all the men were holding their breath to prepare themselves for what was to come. Even the horses were still, their ears flickered backwards as they waited for the instruction of their riders.

But no one moved. The gulf between them resulted from the doing of a handful, but they were all here to suffer the consequences. Darien could only spare a few heartbeats to study Serena, but although he was close enough to see her steady gaze, the distance made it difficult to determine where her attention was fixed. And he understood then that she had slipped out of his reach, that the decision she had made was as irreversible as the moment he looked into her eyes and gave her the name that was not his birthright.

The weariness of the last few days seeped through him, a layer of snow settled over him, numbing him. His right hand twitched as he struggled to keep it steady—the smallest tug of the reins would turn his horse around and take him home. It was duty alone that kept him facing his adversary, and even then, it almost was not enough.

But then Diamond spoke, his loud words carrying over the vast emptiness between them, and duty propelled the Prince of Sairelle back to the severity of his task.

"We have not had the pleasure of conferring in person," the King of Chiston said, "and we regret that the circumstance of our meeting is as unfortunate as it is."

Darien disliked the royal plural that Diamond used, but he could only incline his head in respect. "It is certainly a pleasure to hold audience with Your Majesty," Darien called out in response.

"As much as we would like to share such sentiments, Endymion of Sairelle" Diamond said, "we believe that a less solemn affair is currently impossible. We believe that you have two of our possessions—one has been returned to us, but not only are you still holding the other hostage, you have had no qualms about using it against us."

"I am afraid that is not the only animosity between us. It seems that the proud capital of my kingdom is currently occupied by your people."

"We must admit that this situation is rather convenient, for we are able to propose a trade without the fear of taking advantage of you."

Darien had foreseen this. "You wish to reclaim Tristone?

"We will relinquish Restille if you agree."

"As much I would like to enter such an agreement," the Prince replied slowly, "I believe that Tristone is outside my jurisdiction and I am unable to make any decision without consulting the people who reside in the city."

As soon as the words left Darien's lips, he felt the trap spring up around him.

"Is it not also convenient then," the King said casually, "that a large portion of those very people are here with us now? Men of Tristone, there is no doubt that your current leader holds the utmost respect for your opinion. However, such a man, no matter how honourable, will always be a foreigner to your language and custom. For the sake of your children, you should consider returning to Chiston and uniting once again with your homeland."

The soldiers behind Darien murmured at this, and though he longed to, Darien could not risk the backward glance that would be seen as weakness. The one drop of relief the Prince felt was from knowing that the Chistonians no longer trusted their King—and then he heard Serena's familiar voice, strong and compassionate, rising above the din of speculation.

"Men of Chiston," she said, "hear my voice. Yesterday, I was Fortune's Fool. Tomorrow, I will be the Queen of Chiston. Today, I stand before you simply as Serenity Angelline who was once the Lady of Tristone. My father, Duke Kendrick Angelline, has treated you kindly and kept the best interest of our city at heart until his dying moment. Tristone was once a happy and proud city, rich with laughter and music. Men of Chiston, we can be free of cares once more. The love I hold for my city, my home, is great—I swear upon my father's grave that I will never forsake you, should you choose to reunite with your King."

At the conclusion of her speech, the men started conversing among themselves again. Darien could pick up a few of their words, but most of the sounds in the rough language were lost to him. Then, before their attention could be restored, a single voice rang out from the masses.

"We trust your word, but we cannot trust the King's. Has he not simply asked you to speak on his behalf?"

The question was met with a murmur of agreement, but it was silenced by Serena's distinct voice.

"If you hold such trust for me, then you need not spare a thought for His Majesty's intentions. He had spent many years ruling alone, and in his loneliness and despair, has made several unfavourable judgements. But this will not continue. As the Queen of Chiston, I will do all in my power to ensure that every voice will be heard, every struggle seen, every wrong righted. A new dawn is rising, and its light is within your grasp."

Whatever hope that was left in Darien's heart left him as Serena uttered her last word. He did not have to look back to see the Chistonians, the men who were ready to betray their King, nod as they entrusted themselves to their future Queen. One by one they began to call out her name, until the scattered voices fell in beat with one another's and they chanted the name that had been etched in Darien's heart.

It took a few moments for their silence to be obtained again, but Diamond kept his hand held up long enough for the men to settle. Only when he was met with the utmost attention did the King speak again. "It seems that the people of Tristone have made their decision. Will you consider my offer now, Prince Endymion?"

The trap had led him to this point in time where the only option was to go forward. The public meeting had served Diamond well, and the people would brand Darien as a hypocrite if the offer was withdrawn. Swallowing hard, Darien let loose what was pervading his mind.

"Lady Serenity will be a kind ruler and a devoted wife. I extend my heartfelt congratulations, Your Majesty." The King's only response was to nod, and Darien knew this as the first step of his defeat. "It seems that, even should I wish to keep Tristone, it has now slipped from my hold. I will keep to my word, as long as Restille will be emptied of your soldiers by the full moon."

"Yes, I do fear that my soldiers grow homesick." The King turned to the knight on his right, and said loudly enough for all to hear, "Send word immediately for all men in Restille to retreat. We want there to be not a single trace of our people in Sairelle after the seventh day."

The hum of approval by the Chistonian men behind him made Darien grip his reins more tightly. It was hard for him to believe how quickly the men were already beginning to reinvest their trust in the King for his quick and seemingly honourable actions.

"And I will withdraw my people from Tristone too," Darien said. He waited for a moment before broaching the last remaining subject of their discussion; after this, there would be no reason to remain in Chiston, or to ever return again. "But I hope that this is not to be a temporary truce. To lose the capital of Sairelle to you twice is unfortunate; a third time would seem like carelessness."

An uneasy laughter rippled through the soldiers, and it only exacerbated his despondency. And then he finally heard what he wanted, declared to thousands of men who would hold the King to his word.

"The truce will last until my dying day, or until blood is spilt."

It took the barest of moments, but Darien closed his eyes, revelling in the peace that had finally been attained. "Our business is thus concluded. Thank you for your patience and understanding, Your Majesty."

With these words, the ten thousand Chistonian soldiers on his side of the divide started bristling, ready to leave. When Diamond gave a nod to Serena, his army reacted in a similar fashion. No order had been given, but it was understood that the fighting they had both feared and anticipated would not take place.

But Darien remained steady, and without his permission, the men could not leave. He turned to Shitennou, knowing that their silence throughout the exchange only signified how much more they had to say. He looked first at the leader of the Shitennou, and was not disappointed with Kunzite spoke immediately.

"Are you certain?"

Darien knew the General was not asking about the truce, but the Prince could not afford to dwell any further on Serena.

"The war will end," he replied firmly, "and thousands of innocent lives need not be taken."

Nephrite was not convinced, and he wasted no time in making his thoughts known. "You know he's just using her." At the Prince's strained silence, the General continued, his voice rising. "You did not ride non-stop for two nights to attain peace, Darien. A truce might have been established, but how long do you really think it will last? You have seventy thousand good men who are only hours away, and they will fight to the death for you."

"We have lost the ten thousand Seiya has gathered for us," the Prince said softly. "They do not want to fight. They are placing themselves in the mercy of their King, and however we might disagree with their decision, we should not condemn them for it."

Nephrite shook his head, knowing that his Prince was avoiding the crux of the matter. "She will not be happy. She has sacrificed herself for this, for the people, for _you_. You cannot allow this to happen, Darien. You cannot walk away from this with your honour still intact."

"Lord Nephrite, I am the Prince of Sairelle. My responsibility is to my people, not to my heart."

The declaration only served to fuel the General's passion. "No, this is not right… I am unable to allow this to pass…" Then, raising his voice into a shout, Nephrite broke the protocol the Prince had struggled to maintain. "Serena! You cannot do this! You are a strong woman—do not submit yourself to Diamond's rule!"

The shock that silenced the men spoke loudly of disapproval. Their attention was now turned to Serena to see her response, but the woman kept her chin high, her gaze on the distant horizon. Then, before Darien could react, the King of Sairelle pounced on the opportunity like a hungry lion. "Prince Endymion, we would not allow one of our subjects to speak so out of turn. Tighten your leash on your dog."

The tension had suddenly soared, but Darien would not let such a slur pass. "I will not tolerate such a contemptuous address to any of my people," the Prince warned.

"And we will not tolerate the disrespect with which your people have addressed Lady Angelline," Diamond replied in kind.

"Informality stemming from familiarity is not a sign of disrespect," Darien said. "Is it your intention to keep your future Queen from maintaining the intimate relationships she has thus developed?

"The Queen of Chiston is not permitted to partake in such scandalous activity," Diamond said. "Your enthusiasm about this subject makes one wonder about the promiscuity of the ladies in Sairelle."

The sneer was not lost to the five thousand Sairellen soldiers who had marched with Darien from Tristone. Although no one voiced their protests, Darien knew his men were burning with indignation.

But his moment of inattention gave Nephrite the opening he needed to speak again. "Serena, we both know that you deserve more than to be repressed by this _King_ of yours until the end of your days. Do not disregard your own needs and choose to submit yourself to a man who cares nothing about you!"

Serena made a move to respond, but refrained when she saw the steely look that her King gave her. The silent exchange between the two pained Darien, but it was not in his right to comment. He had no reason to intervene, or to even observe. Knowing this, the Prince looked away.

Beside him, Nephrite kicked his horse and weaved through the Shitennou so that he was directly next to Darien. "You may think you are acting out of honour," the General said, "but it is only cowardice that permeates from your countenance." Then he turned towards Serena again, and shouted, "If you can forgive Diamond for all the atrocities he's committed, then surely you can forgive Darien for his!"

Diamond clenched his jaw. "I will not tolerate this any further," the King said. Then he addressed his Captain. "Give them a warning shot."

Without hesitation, the head Chistonian archer held up his strung bow, arrow already in place. He found his aim and loosened, watching the feathered fletching spin as it whizzed through the air. It was followed by a soft yelp, and a horse did a nervous half-circle as its rider's hand flew to his face.

It was Jadeite. Ever so slowly, the General lowered his arm, staring at the blood that smeared his gauntlet. He turned his head to face his Prince, and as he did so, a drop of blood slipped down his cheek, instantly staining the snow beneath him.

As the thousands of men comprehended the implication of red stain that was building in the snow, Jadeite lifted his head, and in a cold voice, said that which could never be retracted. "King Diamond has broken his word, and with it, the truce between Sairelle and Chiston."

To the ears of the Sairellen soldiers whose loyalties remained true, the single statement was enough of a declaration of war. In less than a heartbeat, horses were spurned on, swords were drawn, arrows were notched, and the fighting erupted on the Fields of Atheria.

As the five thousand Sairellen men closed the distance between them and their enemy, the Chistonian men who stood by Darien found themselves in a moment of conclusion. They had reached a point of reconciliation with King Diamond, but it was a verbal agreement that could not match the oaths they had sworn to Prince Endymion. When the first Chistonian Captain uttered a battle cry in their own tongue and charged towards Diamond's army, the rest of the men spurred into action and joined the voice with their own.

The triumphant shouts were soon followed by the clash of swords and the screams of those who failed to dodge an attack. Infantry, bowmen and cavalry alike were engaged in the throes of battle, taking down as many of their enemies as they could before they, too, were struck down. There was no finesse or beauty in their movements, only the frantic struggle of knights and peasants alike. The cacophony and the sea of soldiers made it impossible for Darien to maintain control of his mount, which had been trained to lurch forward at the smell of death. Forced into a fight he had prepared for but did not intend, the Prince drew his sword and held it skywards, desperately calling for order.

"Men of Sairelle, attend! Hold your horses and use only your shields; cease this immediately! Attend to me!"

He was unheard. Around him, the fight continued. Men on the battlefield showed no mercy to their enemies, and paid no heed to their leader; all they could hear was the promise of victory, of a better life.

In the flashes of metal reflecting the afternoon sun, Darien saw his own life. The happy, lavished childhood he had, cocooned in the love of his mother and father; the mischievous summers spent with the Shitennou as they shared lessons they learnt inside and outside the study; the long, painful years that followed his sudden transition from the boy who sneaked food from the kitchen into the man who ruled his kingdom; and the short, bittersweet months that resulted from his responsibilities and ambitions, where he found the one person with whom he was not afraid to share everything. His vision blurred with tears, Darien searched through the flurry of movement around him, and caught a glimpse of the golden hair and cerulean eyes that had turned his life into something he had never imagined. His heart overflowed with a warmth that was suddenly painful, and before he could free his head of the images that had sunk into his mind, Darien felt himself overcome with the sweet sensation of falling.

It was when the shouting ceased and his vision cleared to reveal the bright, cloudless sky that he felt a shiver crawl up his spine. His chest was heavy, and breathing had become a laborious task he had never before experienced. He was still reeling from the fall, but realisation dawned that something had caused the loss of his balance. He brought a hand to his chest, and when he lifted it, the Prince saw that the heavy leather of his gauntlet was darkened with blood.

A thud to his left alerted him that someone had dismounted, and he soon saw the face of Kunzite. Darien opened his mouth to ask about his condition, but found speaking was even more difficult than breathing. Then his gaze focused on the stern, sorrowful expression of his friend, and Darien needed to know no more.

The fighting had stopped as quickly as it had started. The men had cleared an area around him, and the Shitennou wasted no time in circling him. He fixed his attention to each of them in turn, but no words were necessary. Then they suddenly parted, and he found himself drowning in a pair of cerulean eyes.

Her tears were warm against his cheek, and Darien's lips curved into the smallest smile. He did not know how Serena had found a way through the chaos to reach his side, but he was beyond caring. All that mattered was that she was here now, and it would be his forever.

Her voice was as smooth and melodious as he had remembered. "You'll be all right, Darien," she breathed, giving him a gentle kiss. "You will survive this. We both will." Then, to confirm her words, she turned to Zoisite, and said, "It cannot be fatal. He is the Prince. He has the strength and means to recover."

The General took another look at his liege, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, my Lady. He has been struck by a crossbow's quarrel."

"Then remove it." It was a command, but it was to no avail.

"It has penetrated his armour and lodged itself in one of his lungs," Zoisite said, head bowed. "Nothing can be done for him now."

Serena opened her mouth to protest, but the Prince reached for her hand. She gently removed his gauntlets and her gloves, and held his cold fingers between hers. She shushed him when he tried to speak, and waited for the coughing fit to pass. His blood stained her cheeks, but she did not notice. Instead, Serena lowered her ear to his mouth.

"The war cannot continue," he whispered, struggling to form he words. "Our people deserve to live without fear of death." When Darien saw that she was about to protest, he tightened his hold on her hand. "You must do this, for me."

Time was slipping away from them faster than sand, but Serena understood his request. She rose to her feet, and looked at the men around her, then beyond them.

"Diamond did not capture Restille by force." Although her lips trembled, her voice was loud and steady. "He bribed the guardsmen with promises he never intended to keep. Our honourable King is only interested in land. He cares not for the people, nor for the notion of peace. I am ashamed to admit that in my desperation to protect the lives of my people, your people, all those who breathe under the sun, I exchanged my integrity for the façade of peace. But I will not longer deceive myself, or deceive you. Diamond has broken his vows to you on so many occasions, that it is not improper to retract your own oaths. As long as Diamond is in power, there will be no peace for either of our countries."

She retreated from the rising din of commotion to her words, and returned to her Prince. His hands, though cold before, were almost frozen. Serena brought them to her lips, and gave him what she could. He smiled at her in response, and the movement softened the lines on his face. For the first time, Serena saw the Prince as the man who had given her his heart. There were so many things she wanted to say, wanted to share, but the words and phrases that did not exist for them yesterday would not be found tomorrow.

But he did not need her to speak in order to know and understand. Then something shifted in his gaze, and he closed his eyes in bliss. "Listen," he said, his voice wavering as life left him. "Can you hear it? There it is, again."

At first she thought he had already travelled to a place she could not follow, but then, ever so faintly, she heard a long, pure note in the air that came and went, elusive as the moon, constant as the sun.

He needed nothing else when he saw the recognition on her face. "That's how an eagle cries, when he finally finds his mate."

And with a soft sigh, the Prince of Sairelle took his last breath.

Her silent tears fell and mingled with the crimson blood beneath them that had soaked the snow. She did not see the soldiers who had once been enemies walk beside one another in shared grief of their own losses, nor did she hear the roars of a King who was silenced by his own men. The Shitennou offered their support, but still she paid no attention to any other. Instead, Serena closed her eyes, softly, delicately.

Then she held his still hand to her own beating heart, and listened to the triumphant, piercing song with no beginning or end, as the eagles flew above them.

* * *

_Finis._


End file.
